Harry Potter and the Divided Four
by Tvillinger
Summary: Fifth year story. Sirius is captured, so is Harry. The other houses get their chance to shine and the Order peeks their head in just a bit. Will Harry keep his 'fighting spirit' or be broken under torture?
1. Midsummer Dream

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Harry Potter and the Divided Four

By Tvillinger

Chapter One -- Midsummer Dream

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You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age.

Professor Binns

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

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"Salazar! Give it up!"

"Ah, I see you've all gathered against me. Three against one isn't extremely fair, now is it Godric?"

"Please, Salazar. Stop the killings. Stop fighting against us, against the world-"

"I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be clever, Rowena. You should know better than to ask me that. At least, with you three gathered together, it'll be easier to kill you."

"Don't make me fight you, Salazar. We were friends, remember?"

"All I remember is Godric, flying his banner high over the school, dirtying the school by allowing mudbloods to enter in. All I remember are the three of you, teaming up against me even before the school's construction began."

Godric Gryffindor pulled out his sword, the silver metal glinting in the sun. "So be it," he muttered darkly, and rushed Salazar. Helga Hufflepuff whispered charms and spells, putting up a protective shield over the three generals and thoughtlessly healing any of her men within distance. Rowena Ravenclaw shot Helga a look of gratitude than closed her eyes, concentrating her draining energy to curse the enemy creatures that stood in her way. Godric would take care of Slytherin but the army was still fighting.

A black dragon, its sleek body nearly blocking out the sky, flew over and roared, releasing a flame of destructive black fire before landing in the midst of the fight, killing its allies and enemies alike. Its tail swished out, knocking over the dozens of dwarves making their way toward it and it drew its head back, ready to flame more. An answering roar drew the black's attention as another dragon, white and easily as big as the black, flew into view, its claws reaching out. The black snarled and flew back into the air, leaving the many bodies behind to rot in the sun, and the two dragons met high in the sky, their air battle echoing many miles away.

Pegasi with elven riders skimmed the area the black dragon had rested, picking out the dead and wounded and dragging those that could be helped back to the medic camps. One Pegasus dropped down to lift a screaming witch when a hissing sound filled the air. Its rider jumped back onto its back, looking at the area in a panic. "Basilisk!" he screamed in warning as dozens of the huge serpents slid into view. The Pegasi bucked in panic, flying away and leaving the fallen to their own devices. The elf that had screamed the warning was knocked off his ride, falling to the ground. He rushed to his feet, looking for something, some weapon to use.

"Don't look at them," Rowena whispered, suddenly at his side. She had her eyes closed and the elf imitated her, shaking with fear. The hisses drowned out any other sound and he could almost see the split tongue shooting out between its teeth, tasting the air for the scent of an enemy to eat.

"Relashio!" Bolts of hot energy flew from her fingertips, striking the enemy she sensed by hearing alone. The hissing began growls of pain and fury. "Impedimenta!" Rowena dared to open her eyes, smiling tightly to find that all of the Basilisk had been killed by her energy or were unconscious. "Quick, find me a sword!"

The elf scrambled to his feet, and then started looking among the dead for a sword. "I'm sorry," he apologized to the silent faces looking back at him, "but we need this more than you do."

"Can you do a controlling spell?" she asked when he returned with a bloody bastard sword. He nodded and she pointed to the still Basilisk bodies. "Cut off each head. Don't leave even one--don't step in their blood. Go quickly, before the stunning spell wears off." 

He nodded again and set out to do what she'd asked.

Rowena looked up to the hilltop she'd apparated from, a distance away. Slytherin and Gryffindor were slashing and dodging each other's swords and Helga was apparating and disapparating all across the battlefield, healing the severely wounded and setting up shields for their army. One moment, she was healing a lame Unicorn, avoiding its kicking heels, and the next she faced down an army of rushing goblins, setting up a shield that the goblins bounced off of while a dozen witches got away.

Rowena took a deep breath. Helga shouldn't be out there, in the midst of the fighting. She was better with healing than anything else. Only Godric was any sort of general.

"Lady Rowena!" a hawk screamed from the sky. "Please, the dragon needs you."

Rowena nodded and apparated. 

"Godric, you seem…tired." Slytherin smiled lazily mid-stroke, wielding his sword as though it weighed nothing. His breathing was slow and steady, not showing any strains of the battle "Let me put you out of your misery."

Gryffindor, meanwhile, had began to huff and sweat ran down his forehead. "I fight with my men, not resting on the sidelines and watching the battle like it were some sport." His blonde hair was dirty, mixing blood, sweat, and dirt together.

Salazar laughed, body relaxed in the heat of the battle, clean and free of any blood. "What a stupid idea. You may die, out there."

"I didn't know you'd care," Godric huffed. His sword came up high, going for a shoulder. Slytherin raised his own to block the attack but Godric grit his teeth and pressed his attack. Both strained, now, trying to toss the other's sword aside. For the first time, a flash of doubt appeared on Slytherin's face, gone as soon as it appeared.

Then it cracked.

Slytherin fell to the ground, grunting, and then stared in disbelief as the two halves of his sword clanged to the floor beside him. Godric's chest heaved and his eyes were beginning to droop with exhaustion. Slytherin frowned. "Well, are you going to kill me now?"

Godric stared a moment and wearily dragged himself to his feet. His raised his sword high again, taking a second to stare Slytherin in the eye. "Forgive me, I only do as I must."

"You think I'll forgive you for killing me?" Slytherin snarled and leapt to his feet. His hand pulled from his robe a darkly glazed dagger, and he tackled Godric. The dagger flashed in the sky and everyone paused, turning to stare.

Godric's eyes went wide and he choked slightly as the dagger slid up to the hilt in his side, the black metal setting his insides on fire. It felt like a cold creature was invading his body, setting off a round of pain.

Slytherin stood back up triumphantly, brushing off the dirt from his robes when the two women apparated to Godric side with crying eyes. "Godric!"

"Helga, please heal him-"

"You won't be able to," Slytherin remarked unkindly. "That dagger is an instant death wound. Too bad for Gryffindor."

"Bastard," Helga hissed, trying to heal the leader anyway.

The armies of light were staring at each other in disbelief. Someone sounded a retreat and the entire force was lifting itself from the area. The armies of Slytherin were beside themselves, hissing and snarling out growls of success, snipping at the retreating enemy's heels.

From high overhead, a pitch of music sounded and even the two dragons, who had not stopped their battle, looked down to see the phoenix flying through the clouds towards its master.

Godric lifted his head, trying to lift a hand as well in greeting to his phoenix, only a dozen years old. The phoenix landed beside the group and cocked its head, trying to understand the gravity of the situation.

Slytherin laughed. "Not even the tears of a phoenix can save you now, Gryffindor," he taunted and his words proved true, as the phoenix's tears did nothing but wet Godric's face. Helga renewed her shields against Slytherin's new attacks but she couldn't hold them forever.

"Rowena, the curse…"

Rowena shook her head. "It requires too much, Godric," she replied with weariness in her words. "We've failed."

"Use the phoenix," Helga whispered. The phoenix tipped its head towards her, in agreement. "Godric, what's it say?"

The phoenix let out a few pearly pitches and Godric, face gone white, answered, "It agrees…"

"You have to do it," Rowena urged. "Only you can talk to phoenixes, only to you will they answer."

"Rowena, he's dying," Helga shook her head. "It's too straining. He'll never be able to stand it."

"It's the only way." Rowena helped Godric to his feet, throwing the dagger to the floor in disgust. The phoenix flew to his shoulder, sharp talons ripping through the cloth but not touching skin.

"You think he can curse me?" Slytherin asked but his voice showed the strains of having to control his dark minions. Not even the dead bodies of his most loyal followers, sacrificed to give him more power, had been able to help him.

"What would you say if I said 'yes'?" Helga shot back. She supported Godric's other side, face mirroring her misgivings.

"I'd call you a fool for trusting a dead man."

"You must say the words," Rowena whispered, "and focus. Don't worry about the future; just say the words"

"And it'll all be over," Helga added fervently. The phoenix swayed from side to side, as if it were being drained.

Godric took a deep breath and mouthed the words, breath giving them sound. And Helga was right. It was all over.

And the words were: "Harry Potter, get downstairs!"

He opened his eyes. _Those_ weren't the words that defeated Slytherin, were they?"

Aunt Petunia's voice echoed up the small stairway again: "I said get downstairs, boy, and make your cousin breakfast!"

He blinked his eyes as the dream went away to the back of his mind to be remembered later. Slowly, with the tiredness of one who hadn't had a good sleep in awhile, Harry pulled from his bed and changed from Dudley's too-big pajamas into Dudley's too-big shirt and pants. The jeans had once been too big for Harry to wear but that was before he shrunk them to his size. Aunt Petunia had nearly had a fit when she saw what he'd done: "Dudley sacrifices _his_ clothing so that you can wear it, you unappreciative brat. And all you can do is, is." At that point, her face went red and she'd stalked away.

Harry trudged downstairs, stomach growling at the smell of bacon. Already, Uncle Vernon sat at the table, reading his newspaper and drinking some coffee. He glared at Harry and yelled, "Brush your hair!"

Absently running a hand through his wild black hair, Harry shrugged and went to work cooking up a "light" breakfast for his enormous cousin; a tower of pancakes, a dozen pieces of bacon, sticky syrup and greasy butter. There was also toast and eggs waiting to be eaten, at least for everyone except Harry. Seconds later, heavy footsteps pounded at the stairs and dust fell from the ceiling as Dudley came downstairs.

Uncle Vernon put his newspaper down to smile gruffly at his son, remarking on how much weight the boy lost. Petunia was taking a napkin and dipping it at her eyes, sniffling and agreeing with her husband, adding that "her boy had changed so much, he was like a new man."

Harry rolled his eyes. Dudley was still Dudley, just a bit more and not any less.

Vernon had gone to the school and had a talk with the principal just over a week ago and since then, there had been no more requests for Dudley to go on a diet. Instead, Aunt Petunia had agreed to sew his uniforms herself which was harder than she'd ever though. The diet restrictions were lifted from the house, excluding Harry who really hadn't noticed a change in his food either way.

Harry finished cleaning up the kitchen and sneaked past his aunt and uncle, still goggling over his cousin, and went back to his room. Hedwig screeched a hello from her cage, picking through her feathers. The owl was the only reminder Harry had of school and the wizarding world at large. All his school things were locked in the tiny space beneath the stairs, including his wand and robes.

Hedwig was also very good at waking Harry up at night, when the nightmares became took much to handle.

He went to his bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling and thinking over the dream again. That was the founders, to be sure, and they seemed to be really going at it. He shivered, recalling the body-filled battle scenes and the many creatures he saw. Elves? Dragons? Pegasi? Was that a real battle or just another nightmare in disguise?

"I wish Hermione was here," Harry sighed. "She could figure this out."

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"Boy! Open up, boy! I know you're in here!" Pounding followed and the doorknob rustled as Vernon's beefy figure threw itself at the wooden door. "Come on, boy." He tried the door again but it was still locked. Cursing, he kicked the door and looked down the stairs. "Petunia, where's the key for this door?"

"It locks from the outside, Vernon," Petunia answered from her place in front of the TV, knitting while she watched a talk show: stupid husbands and how to solve them. Lesson one: be nice. Lesson two: cook good food. Lesson three: poison that food and claim the insurance money that came with the funeral. Lesson four: pick another stupid husband…

"Oh." Vernon's face went red and he turned back to the beaten-up door. Beneath his hand, like he's been told, was the small lock. The knob had been nearly squashed beneath Vernon's massive hands and only working with his brain could he figure out a way to unlock the broken thing.

The door creaked and opened, showing Vernon into the smallest bedroom of the house. It had been emptied and completely searched while Harry had been away, searched until Petunia had found the floor panel that could be pulled away. Harry had been unpleasantly surprised to find that his hiding place was discovered and filled with cement. The room was emptied of anything else Harry might be able to use as a place to put his…magic…stuff. All that was left now was the squeaky bed, the owl stand, and a small basket of clothing too small to fit Dudley anymore. As he walked in, Vernon scowled at the snow-white owl and then looked to Harry.

"Why didn't you tell me the door locks from the outside?" he asked angrily, so that the words came out like a dull roar.

"I did," Harry replied indifferently, sitting on his bed and stroking his owl through the cage bars. "You didn't hear me."

"Hm." Vernon looked around the near-empty room, looking for something to yell at Harry for and his eyes rested on the owl. "Dudley's been having problems sleeping at night, since your room is right next to his. Its that owl of yours." His eyes seemed to glint with malice. "You got one day to get rid of it."

"But-"

"Don't talk back to me!" Vernon yelled, face red again. Harry fell into a resentful silence. Smiling at his win, Vernon continued in his gruff voice. "An' I'll be coming home tonight, to check if its still here. If it is, I'll get rid of it."

"You can't-"

"I said shut up!" Spit was flying off his bottom lip and he lifted a hand to wipe the spit off. "That bird's enough of a pest, smelling up the room. You can smell it from the kitchen. Be glad I don't just get rid of it right not."

"Hedwig doesn't smell," Harry muttered, "that's Dudley. And if you did get rid of it, everyone would wonder where it came from and you'd have to say it was my pet. Then everyone would think you're weird, and you won't let that happen." 

Vernon was already out the door, not close enough to hear Harry's words but he saw the small boy's lips moving and could put two and two together; the boy was talking when Vernon told him not to. "You say something, boy?" Vernon bellowed.

Harry winced then, dejectedly, shook his head.

Nodding Vernon headed out again. He saw from the corner of his eye Harry stroking the bird listlessly and smiled his beefy grin again. "Bout time that kid learned to listen," he mumbled to himself as he walked downstairs. "Always got all this mag- stuff going on. Who knows what's been in his brain." He shuddered at the image of his sister, bloating up like a balloon and floating to the ceiling of the kitchen just two years before.

Walking into the kitchen, he picked up the paper and stared at the front page a second before shrugged. Something about American politics. Like people in England needed to know anything about the rest of the world. _He_ didn't live in America; why should he be worried about it? Satisfied with himself, the chunky man sipped the remainder of his coffee and looked around the kitchen cupboards for some scrap leftover from breakfast.

Nothing. Dudley had already eaten everything. Vernon chuckled to himself, thinking about how big his boy was growing. It seemed only like yesterday when the boy had come out of the hospital, weak and all shriveled up like some pink prune. He knew it was up to him to get his boy in shape so he and Petunia had spent the last few years stuffing their boy and filling him with whatever he could eat. Now he was nice and strong, just like his father. Any rightful girl with a good mind would like Dudley.

If only the boy was considerate enough to leave something for his dad.

Vernon grunted with annoyance and thought about getting Harry to come down and cook something for him. Thinking of Harry brought back memories of James and Lily, especially the wedding and more recently the funeral.

Vernon never did like James; no man could be as happy and carefree as that man had been. Vernon suspected that there was something with that James fellow from the start. When the two met, instead of the normal handshake, the black-haired man, barely out of his teens, had stepped up and hugged his brother-in-law. Then there were all the times when James would just smile and laugh for no reason.

Then there was Lily. She and Petunia were supposed to be sisters but the two couldn't be more different. Where Petunia was pale and long like a skinny reed, Lily wasn't as tall was as thin but was full of life. Even her hair was a vibrant shade of red, a red that deepened with age. She wasn't pale like Petunia but more tanned. And she certainly didn't care about what others were doing or what they thought about her. That was the biggest difference between the two sisters.

He never hated her, now that he thought about it. Maybe it was because the girl was his sister-in-law, but then again, Harry was his nephew and there were times…Maybe it was because it just wasn't gentleman-like to hate a lady, but he wasn't really that much of a gentleman. Vernon thought about it and then just gave it up, not caring either way simply because the two were already dead and nothing he though would change that.

The wedding had been a disaster from the start. All kinds of mysterious and weird things were going on, like cake just appearing and things flying around the place. The decorations were very nice, Vernon admitted to himself, but they just appeared, like the cake, and didn't seem to be connected to anything. How is a wedding supposed to be when pictures of James as a child are floating around and waving at everybody? When short little _creatures_ are walking around, almost unseen if you're not looking for them, cleaning up and refilling the tables of food? As far as Vernon knew, he and Petunia was the only normal people there, and it didn't help matters when three young men took enjoyment out of torturing them, calling them "muggles" and doing all sorts of tricks until James told them to stop.

The funeral was much better, in Vernon's opinion. Everyone was quiet, sad, and normal. It could have been a regular funeral, had everyone present not been dressed up in robes and doing simple things, like lowering the casket and getting a tombstone, with magic. The marble tombstone had just appeared, just like the writing on it had appeared. If the choice had been up to Vernon, he and his family wouldn't have gone but with the newest addition to the "family," Harry Potter, it was only custom that they go.

Funny, Vernon thought now, reflecting on everything. Harry probably didn't even know where his parents were buried.

Harry certainly looked like his parents. When he was a little child, showing up on the front door, neither he nor Petunia had to read the mysterious letter to know who kid it was. With that wild black hair, thick even as a babe, there was no doubt as to who the father was and those stunning green eyes could only belong to one person. Petunia had argued with him for almost a week before they decided to keep the little bugger. It was only because Dudley likes having him around, likes having someone he can hit and kick.

His stomach growled, yanking him to the present.

"There's some bacon in the microwave," Petunia called out. "And some toast."

"Mm. Thanks." Vernon stood and made his way to the microwave, swallowing the bacon strips and chewing down the toast. He thought back to the recent episode in Harry's room. The boy was still trouble and it was only the second week of summer, with five more to go.

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Harry sat on his bed for many minutes after Vernon's departure. He waited for the near-half hour before he could hear Vernon's car backing out of the garage and then for another thirty minutes before the front door slammed shut, signaling Petunia's leaving to go spy on her neighbors.

After another minute of waiting to be sure she wasn't coming back, Harry raced to his door and slammed against it a few times, hoping against hope that Vernon's morning blunder broke the door knob enough for him to break the door open now. It worked. A few slams against the door and it gave way like a wounded puppy.

Hedwig started hooting angrily, demanding to be let free. "Shh!" Harry whispered, bringing a finger to hold before his lips. "Quiet. I'll let you out in a minute." Hedwig calmed down but still glared at him.

He crept downstairs, looking for some scrap piece of paper and something to write with. Finding some old newspaper, over a month old, in the garbage and a pen that barely worked, (everything else was locked in Vernon's study desk) Harry went back upstairs to his room, pulling the door shut behind him so that nothing appeared suspicious.

Harry leaned down with his back against the door and glared at the paper in his hands. "Great, Harry. Now what are you going to do?"

The front door opened again and he groaned. "I should've grabbed some food!" Shaking his head, he heard Petunia walking through the house before turning the TV on. "Oh well. I'll have to wait until tonight, I guess."

Hedwig was flapping her wings impatiently and Harry reluctantly walked to her cage, unlocking it. She flew by, nipping his ear before going to settle in the windowsill. Harry sighed.

"What do I write? Oh, hey Sirius. How are you? Me? I'm fine--except for dreams where I can see the Founders fighting wars with each other with all sorts of weird creatures and magic spells that I can't seem to hear. That's besides my other nightmares, of course. Nightmares where Cedric comes and haunts me, where Wormtail laughs at me because you finally get caught, and where Voldemort takes over the school Anything else that I can think of?" Hedwig hooted.

"Well, there's always the part where my uncle's locked my up again and that they're for all purposes starving me. Honestly, I think that if they knew about Voldemort, they'd send me right over. Anything to get rid of me. Why couldn't I've just gone over to the Weasleys'?" He ended with burying his head in his hands, stomach growling quietly.

Hedwig cocked her head to the side, listening to her young and trouble owner's insane rants for a time. She lifted one wing and began to prune her feathers, keeping one yellow eye on Harry. When he fell silent, she put her wing down, let out a soft hoot, and flew to his shoulder, giving him the divine privilege of being her newest bird stand. She gave a few more soft, sympathetic hoots but nothing drew his attention. Getting impatient, Hedwig leaned over and gave his ear a solid tug.

"Ow!" She flew off as his arms came up, shooing her away and protecting his tender earlobe. "That hurt, Hedwig! Are you in on it, too? Trying to make my life miserable? Well, that's just great. Get in line with the rest of them."

Hedwig watched him with strangely knowing eyes, hooting indignantly before scooting back to her windowsill. Harry rubbed his ear, glaring at his owl but found that it did nothing. She just went back to her feathers.

Harry rolled his eyes and looked over the newspaper before him, thinking over what he should write. Sirius was definitely out of the question; if he heard that Harry was locked up in the smallest bedroom, he'd come rushing in to save him and be caught in the process. Hermione was off, visiting Viktor wherever he was. So that just left…

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Dear Ron,

How are things going at the Burrow? I got your owl last week, about Ginny going on a student exchange program in America. I'm excited for her. Tell your family hi for me.

The reason I didn't write back was because my uncle put up more bars in my bedroom window and locked me inside. I've just found a way to get outside today, so don't be mad at me or anything.

Has Hermione written to you? I think she sent an owl to me but because of the bars, it didn't get through. Have Fred and George opened that joke shop yet?

I need you to take care of Hedwig for me. Vernon threatened to "take care" of her if she wasn't gone by tonight. Oh, and could you owl Sirius? I haven't, yet, because I only have one sheet of paper and if I owled him, he'd come to my house and get caught. Just tell him I'm alright but that I can't watch Hedwig this summer, alright?

Thanks a lot,

Harry.

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"Ron, Hermione's going to be here any second! Get downstairs right now!"

"Just a second, Mum. I'm almost done packing-"

"_Almost done? You were suppose to finish yesterday!_"

Percy calmly sipped his morning juice, sitting in the middle of the yelled conversation but ignoring it altogether. His attention was fixed on the _Prophet_, scanning the headlines for any signs of You-Know-Who's "return." Unlike the rest of his family, who'd believed Harry instantly, Percy was more inclined to look at the facts before making an opinion. Besides, it wasn't like he was the only one having a hard time believing You-Know-Who had returned. The wizarding community was split in half, some believing and some not. 

Cornelious Fudge wasn't helping Harry either; anything that might have been interpreted as an attack was put aside, like the wizarding village that had been nearly decimated just last week. Fudge explained to the worried community that it wasn't You-Know-Who that was attacking them; it was the dark creatures. When he found out what a success that was, blaming dark creatures became a campaign slogan for him and his popularity, according to the _Prophet_ was skyrocketing. 

Which was very bad news for the un-wizard kind. Lynches and assaults on werewolves and vampires were becoming frequent; the giants were being hounded; even harmless creatures, like pixies, were being hurt.

Percy took it all in stride, not really siding against the Ministry but far from encouraging it.

A white owl pounded at a window. Mum stick her head in. "Percy, can you get that?"

Rolling his eyes, Percy stood, shook off the toast crumbs from his robes, and walked to the window. The owl he identified immediately: Hedwig, Harry Potter's owl. Hedwig blinked her yellow eyes and stuck out her foot. At first, Percy thought some scrap of trash had attached itself to her leg but, after a moment, he saw the handwriting filling the empty spaces of the torn newspaper.

"_Dear Ron…_"

"It's for Ron, mum," Percy yelled. 

His mother stuck her head into the kitchen again, face red with agitation. "Well, just leave it on the table. Ron's busy right now. Imagine! He had all this time and only _now_ decides to take a shower…"

Shrugging, Percy put Hedwig in the owl cage next to the hyperactive Pig, his brother's owl given to him from some unknown source. Percy had been afraid at first that Ron had stolen the owl but neither of his parents seemed to care where he got it from, just as long as he didn't kill Hermes with all the letters going back and forth between him and his friends. Hedwig seemed to raise an eyebrow in disdain at the younger owl and made her perch on the opposite end. Absently, Percy gave the owl a piece of bread that she gobbled up hungrily.

"Is Harry too busy to feed you?" Percy muttered, filling a bowl full of bread bits that Hedwig attacked in her hunger.

Ron's letter lay, barely open on the table beside him. Percy's hand would occasionally touch it when he was reaching for his juice until the lower part of the newspaper fell open. One word seemed to stick out from all the rest:

"_…Sirius…_"

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"It's not like I'm not worried about him, you know. I am, just as worried as you are. But it does no good wasting the hours just sitting there moping. Get up and do something," Remus half-pleaded, staring at his old friend with something like desperation. 

Sirius rebelliously flicked a piece of dirt at his friend, glaring out the window. All he could see was the wide-open spaces. Wide-open spaces that were beginning to get on his nerves. "Like what? You picked a very boring house. There's no one around for miles." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his pale face flushed a bright red color. "Um…"

Remus fixed him with a disbelieving look. "…Has being in Azkaban made you stupid?" he asked after a moment, eyes telling Sirius that only a stupid person wouldn't get the reason why Remus chose his house so far away from civilization.

"Alright, that was a stupid point. I know why your house is so far away, so stop looking at me like that." Sirius sighed and went back to looking out the window. His hair was washed back to the near-silky condition it'd always been. His eyes weren't as sunken as before and his skin had achieved a miracle-like color renewal. And the few weeks spent at Lupin's had him so stuffed, his belly didn't even growl anymore. Sirius absently rubbed his stomach, still flat from thirteen starving years, amazed at the absence of the growling that had become a second companion to him.

"Well, are you going to get up?" Remus' voice was like a jumpstart to reality. Sirius found himself face to face with his old friend, felt Remus' hands gripping his shoulders in a last-ditch effort to pull Sirius from his misery. "If your not, I'll just curse you to clean up. I've never had a house elf before, and you'll be a good substitute."

This time, he managed to chuckle. "Taking lessons from me now? I remember doing that to you in our third year."

"Don't think I've forgotten," Remus warned, shaking a finger. "And I swore to get you back."

"You seem to be a little slow."

"Hey, it's only taken me fifteen or so years, right? That's not too bad, considering…" Remus' smile turned into a worried frown as Sirius' face paled. "Oh, Sirius. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Everything reminds me…" His voice trailed off

"Hmm, well, the others will be here by tomorrow. And we're a little low on food." Remus shoved his hands into his pockets, pulling out the rather pathetic collection of coins hidden within them. He was counting them out as he looked up and said, "You don't mind if I step out and grab some 'rations,' now do you?" The smile hidden in his words was not lost on Sirius.

"Go ahead." And even Sirius could hear the weary, worn-down tone in his voice. It wasn't his fault; Harry hadn't written anything since the end of school, and even though he barely knew the boy, Sirius had grown use to the fluffy owls and little notes Harry sent with them. He watched Remus out of the corner of his eyes, shaking his head in sad defeat, and sat up straighter, suddenly wearing a faint smile. "As long as you don't forget the chocolate frogs."

Remus' head jerked up. "Excuse me?"

Sirius couldn't help laughing at his friend's reaction. "Chocolate frogs. Little buggers that like to hop around before you eat them." His laughter grew at the wide-eyed Lupin. "It's just been awhile since I actually had to _catch_ my food. So don't forget them."

"Who can forget _those _things?" Remus retorted, smiling broadly at the return of Sirius' humor. He pulled on a light cloak, dusting off the small dust balls that were collected at the bottom. He made it to the door when Sirius, catching onto his old humor, yelled out:

"And the Every-flavor Jelly Beans!"

"Uh huh," Remus grunted, looking around for his wand. "You still like those? I thought you swore never to eat another one after that…incident during our seventh year."

"Did I?" Sirius scratched his head comically. "I don't seem to remember exactly what flavor that particular bean was-"

"I think it was gas, or oil, or something like that."

"And you _had_ to remind me?" Sirius asked, sounding exasperated. "I nearly threw up, swallowing that junk."

"Which is what the bean was-"

"You know what? You're right. Scratch the jelly beans. But you'll have to get me some Caramel Crunchies!"

Remus shook his head and mouthed the words 'crunchies?' "Which ones? The ones for kids or for teens?"

"Get the kids. I always liked to see my candy turn into mythical creatures."

"As opposed to the teens?" Remus asked, leaning against the open door frame.

"Hey! Who wants to eat something that acts like one of those popular boy bands? I'll never understand the attraction between girls and teenage boys making a living singing bad love songs." Sirius actually managed to sound outrage at the very suggestion.

Remus snorted. "I remember you having a certain crush on Miranda Millaw during our second year at Hogwarts."

"That was different," Sirius replied indifferently.

"Right. Of course it was."

"See, she was singing _good_ love songs," Sirius continued, now standing to emphasize his point.

"And the fact that she stripped down to almost nothing during her shows…"

"Nothing to do with it!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. 

"I remember the first time you brought in a poster of hers.." Remus shook his head with Peter nearly choked when she began to dance. James thought it was funny as hell."

A taunt tension suddenly appeared in the room and Sirius closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep, calming breath. "…It'd been better if he had died, Remus. If he hadn't been so lucky on our adventures-"

"No talk like that here, Sirius," Remus interrupted firmly. "I'm not going to let you drown in depressive memories." They both went silent as Sirius struggled to collect himself. Remus shook his dusty robes once more. "Now, that'll be the jelly beans, chocolate frogs, and caramel crunchies. That it?"

"If it's not, I can always yell at you from a distance," Sirius smiled, leaning back against the windowsill.

"_That'll_ be the day. Picture the headlines: 'Sirius Black captured on trip to candy shop. Swears he only wanted another jelly bean.'".

"Then you'll see my dashing face on every _Prophet_ from here to America."

"You forget," Remus countered, "I already saw your 'dashing' face before on every newspaper and I really don't think I need to go through the trauma of seeing it again. It isn't really as 'dashing' as you like to think it is."

"Go on and get me my sweets and I may forgive you that little comment."

"Or you may just blow the house up having a tantrum so that when I come back, all I've have left is a burning blanket and a few leaves for a pillow."

"That sounds like a promising idea, now."

"Only if you enjoy the idea of me eating all your candy on the way back, hitting you upside the head with the empty bags, and turning you in for the reward money so that I can do it all over again."

"There's a reward for finding me?"

"Oh no, I think your head just got bigger," Remus groaned.

"Ah! Go and get me my food."

"Say please."

"No."

"Well, fine then." Remus started walking out, leaving the door wide open behind him for the single word he knew would be said.

He didn't get very far when Sirius called out from inside the small house:

"Remus…"

"Yes?" he replied, slowly turning around.

"Please?"


	2. When Time Catches You

****

Harry Potter and the Divided Four

By Tvillinger

Chapter Two -- When Time Catches You

__

Two more for Azkaban tonight…

Severus Snape

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

"…_Sirius…_"

Percy's eyes bulged at the statement and it took all the effort he had not to spatter the words with juice. Hurriedly, he picked up the letter and skimmed through it. Hedwig hooted disapprovingly. "Oh, shut up, will you?" he stormed. "Do you know what this means?"

Sirius Black had been on the run for about two years now, ever since he escaped from Azkaban in Percy's seventh year. Though the Muggle world may have forgotten about him, the wizarding community was still a little apprehensive whenever the subject came up. And when the subject came up, the blame would always follow in a circular twist: It was the dementors fault, they didn't guard Black good enough; it was the wizarding guards fault, they gave the dementors too much slack; it was Crouch's fault, he sent Black to Azkaban when Black deserved the kiss…

But Crouch was dead so the blame, of course, eventually went straight to the top.

It was the Ministry's fault, because they're supposed to be perfect and supposed to protect us from these sorts of things, but they're not perfect and they haven't stopped Black yet. Personally, Percy agreed with blaming Fudge but then again, it was probably because Percy, after Crouch's death, had been promoted to being the main assistant to the Minister and those hours they spent together had given Percy a rather biased view on the man in charge of it all.

"Sirius Black? Harry knows Sirius Black?" he whispered. Then he straightened his back. "Well, of _course_ he knows who Black is. I'd know who killed my family, if someone did. But I wouldn't start exchanging owls with that person!" He began to pace back and forth in the kitchen. "And Ron seems to know who Black is, too. I bet they're all _friends_ with him! It'd be just like them…"

"Hey Perce, what's up?"

"Maybe you should focus your attention down, instead-"

"You're right. If he keeps going like that, he'll run a hole right through the floor!"

Percy looked up, irritated, into the grinning faces of his twin brothers. "Is there something you wanted?" he asked almost angrily.

Fred and George exchanged a look and pulled up a chair. "There something wrong, Percy?" George asked. Fred stared intently at his older brother.

Percy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, collapsing in a chair next to the twins. "I don't know why I'm even going to tell you," he began, "but this came for Ron just today." He handed the newspaper scrap to Fred, who skimmed through it and handed it to George. The twins shared another look, like they were psychic, and then turned back to look at Percy.

"Do you want us to do something about it?" Fred asked at length. "Because I'm all up for ideas."

"Do…something?"

"Yea," George agreed. "It's bad enough that he has to live with those Muggles. Now they lock him up and take away his owl? It's the worst crime of the century!"

"Lock him up…Are you two blind! That's not what I was talking about!"

"Well, that's the only problem we see there, Perce. What are you talking about if you're not worried about Harry?" George asked, scratching an ear. Fred was unknowingly mimicking.

"This!" and he tore the paper out of George's hands. "See, right here: '_Oh, and could you owl Sirius? I haven't, yet, because I only have one sheet of paper and if I owled him, he'd come to my house and get caught.' _Do you see what I'm talking about now?"

"So Harry doesn't want this Sirius guy coming down to visit him. Big deal," Fred drawled.

"Not just any Sirius. Harry's talking about the Sirius. Sirius Black."

"And you now this because…?"

Percy rubbed his eyes, annoyed. "Are you two thick? What other Sirius could Harry know that would get caught in the act of visiting him?"

"Well, plenty," George replied evenly. "Just about any wizard or witch would get in trouble if they tried to get Harry away from that Muggle family of his. Dumbledore told all of us that Harry's not to come over this year-"

"Like we're going to listen," Fred cut in. At Percy's look, the twin shrugged. "I overheard Mum saying how she planning on going to pick Harry up in about a week. Poor kid, he's being adopted right into the family. Did you know that Mum knits his sweater before ours?"

"Listen, Perce, I suggest you drop this whole thing," George leaned in and said seriously. "If you get talking about how Harry Potter is best friends with Sirius Black, people are going to start looking at you funny. Not just anyone; Fudge'll probably fire you, and you know how badly Mum and Dad need that money. So don't get all 'bighead' about it."

Percy watched as the twins stood and walked through the kitchen, heading upstairs. The shouting between his mother and Ron had quieted down, now that Percy cared to think about it. Perhaps it was because the Grangers had arrived; he could hear his father, fairly drooling over the muggles. Hermione was here, then, back from her brief tour of Bulgaria with her parents. His father had all but begged the muggle family to spend a night at the Burrow, as if it wasn't crowded enough.

Percy thought about what George said and then discarded the whole conversation as rubbish. Of course the twins wouldn't be any help; what was he thinking?

Hedwig flushed her wings, letting old feathers drop to the bottom of the cage, and drawing Percy's attention.

"I don't care what they say," he whispered to the owl, "I know that you know where Sirius Black is."

He picked up his wand and pointed it at the bird. "And you're going to help me catch him." And with that, Percy began the incantation for a particular tracing charm, ignoring Hedwig's frightened clucks.

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__

Dear Sirius,

This is Ron. I'm writing because Harry just owled me, telling me that he couldn't take care of Hedwig right now and he asked me to owl you. 

Are you the real Sirius Black? Could you send me an owl really soon because my friend Hermione is coming to visit me for awhile and I might not be here when Hedwig comes back.

Thanks,

Ron.

"Now, you have to admit that this is a really strange letter," Sirius remarked to Buckbeak. This hippogriff just chucked its beak together, getting back to the more important task of eating. Sirius smiled at his newest friend, patting the hippogriff's neck and ruffling its feathers. The first time he'd done that, Buckbeak nearly took his arm off before the animal realized that the petting felt rather good. Now, Buckbeak wouldn't let Sirius sleep at night without getting a good massage.

"Spoiled beast," Sirius chuckled to himself, and left the creature in the small cave not far from Remus' home.

He reread the short letter several times, deciding that Ron must have been having a bad day or was playing a joke on Sirius. Getting back into the house, Sirius glanced at the muggle clock on the wall. Amazing inventions, the clock. Without it, one wouldn't know what the time was. Of course, even without a clock, the time went on. Remus had been gone for nearly five hours now, a reasonable amount of time, considering how far the nearest town was. And the fact that magic was officially 'off-limits' at Lupin's made Remus' journey very long indeed. Luckily, Remus' werewolf abilities gave him an inhuman amount of strength and endurance. He had just better get back soon. It was a full moon in the sky tonight.

Sirius sat down at a rickety old table and took out a scrap piece of parchment as well as a quill.

__

Ron,

Of course it's me. Why do you ask?

Why can't Harry have his owl with him? Hedwig's a very reliable owl, one of the best. Is it because of those muggles he's living with?

Is anything happening with Harry? Tell him that if anything's wrong, I'll be there in as fast as I can. Buckbeak is still with me so I can travel as fast as I need to.

Why are you writing like this? You act like you don't know me, like I don't know Hermione. Is something wrong?

Sirius.

As he waited for the ink to dry, Hedwig suddenly started squawking, flying from her usual post to race through the house, knocking over several books and ink pots. Her feathers were drifting all over the place.

"Hedwig! Hedwig! Calm down, girl." Sirius ducked as the crazed owl nearly took off his head with her sharp talons. "Are you going crazy?" he asked the flying bird. "Is this why Harry sent you away?"

The owl didn't calm down. Instead, she slammed her fluffy body against a window, hard enough to crack the glass.

"What's the matter?" Sirius leaped over a fallen stool to grab the hooting owl, trapping her against his chest with his arms. She screamed and scratched at him, leaving several bloody trails down his arms and against his shoulders. Wincing, Sirius tried to pull the owl back to the empty owl cage on the other side of the room and tripped over another chair. His arms flung out, releasing the raging owl back into the air as his head thumped against the floor.

For a moment, Sirius blacked out Hedwig went flying back against the window, creating a few more cracks in the glass. Lying on the floor, he felt like he was being dropped in the center of a very mad world, indeed.

Hedwig finally accomplished her goal of breaking the window and flew out in the midst of the falling glass shards. Several cut into her wings and feathers, dying her white coat a glossy red.

Sirius blinked. He lay on the floor several minutes, just trying to stop the world from spinning. After his brain calmed down enough to let him stand, Sirius got to his feet and rubbed his aching head. "Stupid bird," he muttered angrily, stomping through the overturned house. He reached over, lifting the furniture back to their original positions and trying to mop up the puddles of ink that stuck to everything.

Buckbeak let out a shrill call and Sirius shook his head, trying to get rid of the dizzy feeling. He shivered as the cold afternoon sent a chilling breeze into the house, and looked for something to block the broken window. The mirror clucked as he approached it.

"You always seem to be such a mess," it remarked rather smugly.

Sirius looked at himself and blushed. His robes were torn from Hedwig's talons and bloody streaks were left from her vicious attack. His hair had become completely disarrayed in the mini-battle, looking much like the messy clump of dirt it had been when he escaped from Azkaban.

"Well, I'd like to see you come out looking nice after fighting a mad owl," he replied darkly, going back to looking for a window replacement.

"Fighting with owl? Goodness, your generation does seem to get in a big mess now and then, don't they. Go take a shower and brush your hair. Then you'll look at least semi-presentable," the mirror droned on.

He grit his teeth and ignored the words but the mirror didn't show any sign of shutting up anytime soon. Then an idea settled in his mind and Sirius grinned evilly.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ron, we need to talk."

Ron looked up from where he was playing Wizard's Chess with Hermione to see his twins staring at him, faces very serious. "Um, sure. What about?"

Fred took a seat beside Hermione and George sat next to Ron, both looking at the other two with that same serious expression. "Listen, we know all about how you send owls to Sirius Black-"

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, cutting right into George's words. She blushed bright red and sputtered out, "I-I have no idea what your talking about."

"Get over yourselves," Fred rolled his eyes. "It wasn't too hard to figure out. Trying to keep a secret in this house is about as hard as it is to keep a secret at Hogwarts. Which is about impossible."

"How long have you known?" Ron asked.

George shrugged. "Ages. But the point is that we were the only ones who knew."

"At first, we thought you guys were joking. Calling him 'Snuffles' and all that really threw us off-"

"Until we realized it was code for Sirius."

"Then we understood almost everything."

"Except the part where you guys are all friends."

Fred nodded. "That's something we still don't understand. I mean, why are you friends with a crackling mad evil wizard who escaped from Azkaban?"

Ron and Hermione suddenly found their chess game extremely interesting. "It there a point to all this?" Ron bit out. "Or did you just come to tell us you knew our secrets?"

"Well, remember our point?" George started again.

"How we were the only ones who knew?" Fred said. "Besides Mum, but she just figured it out so it doesn't count."

"Right. Well, we're not."

"Not what?" Hermione asked, getting exasperated at the double talk the twins were presenting. "And one at a time. I can't follow the both of you talking at the same time."

Fred motioned for George to talk and George cleared his throat. "Well, this morning, Harry sent you an owl-"

"Really? Where is it?" Ron asked, excitedly. He looked to Hermione. "He hasn't written either of us all summer-"

"That's cause those muggles locked him up in that room again," Fred interrupted. "Like that did a few years ago, with the barred windows and everything."

"Oh, that's terrible!" Hermione stood. "We should go get him right now."

"Sit down, Hermione. Dumbledore said all wizards and witches have to stay away from Harry's house this summer." Ron pulled her back down to her chair. "Said it was for his own protection and all." He looked to George. "So, where's the letter?"

"That's what we're trying to tell you," Fred groaned. "But you keep interrupting-"

"Percy has it," George answered. "He took it right off Hedwig, read it, and nearly went mad because Harry was talking about Sirius. So now he knows, but you know Perce-"

"'Bighead,'" Ron and Fred stated at the same time.

George nodded and pointed to Fred. "We tried to talk him out of it-"

"But he probably won't listen to us, the mean git."

"I'd be surprised if he hadn't done it yet."

"Done what?" Hermione asked, annoyance creeping into her voice again.

George wrinkled his forehead. "Well, what do you think he's planning to do?"

"It's rather obvious-"

"At least to us. Maybe you just got to be his brother to understand him-"

"George, Fred, what is Percy going to do?" Ron tried, getting upset as well.

"Capture Sirius Black, of course," the twins replied at once.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sirius nailed once more and leaned back against a wall, admiring his hard work. The annoying mirror would never bother him again. Not in its current state.

The window problem was fixed, Sirius having blocked the broken glass with the mirror. Since the mirror was in the way, he couldn't see outside but it was a small price to pay. Hedwig hadn't showed up since her disturbing departure, so Sirius was forced to use a local bird to deliver his letter. He thought about owling Harry as well but decided against it. Remus was right; he was getting too worried about nothing. Besides, forcing Harry to talk to him wouldn't be fair. He and Harry weren't strangers but they were far from being close. It was only a few years ago that Harry had met Sirius and since then, Sirius hadn't done much of a job being a godfather.

That'd all change once Peter was found, Sirius promised. Then, Harry would come live with him and he'd be treated like any teen should be. Normal.

Outside, Buckbeak let out another of his shrill screams, making Sirius wince. "Now what?" he groaned, starting to the door. "I swear, there's some problem with the magical creatures today. First Hedwig, now Buckbeak-"

His raving was cut short by loud, insistent pounds on the door. Sirius froze, not two feet away from the door, his hand stretched out to open it. He could hear gruff voices just beyond the wooden barrier:

"You really think he's here? This place looks deserted."

"Of course he'd be here. Our sources are completely reliable. And it'd be rather obvious if he was living in a town. No, a house like this is just perfect."

More pounding, then:

"You think he'd home."

"If he isn't, we'll just wait for him. But I bet he's right inside, trying to hide."

"Open the door, you reckon?"

"Yes."

"Alohomora!"

The door flew open, sending Sirius flying back and landing once more on his head. That's happened to me a lot, he thought to himself before falling into the black void of unconsciousness. Before him, over a dozen robed Aurors flooded into the room. Cornelius Fudge, the last one to enter, smiled broadly. "Congratulations," he said to all those in the crowded house. "You've caught Sirius Black."

He leaned over and clapped a pale young man's shoulder. "It wouldn't have been done without courageous effort on the part of this young man, Percival Weasley. Weasley, come to my office tomorrow and bring your father. We'll see that you both get your fair reward."

"Thank you, sir," Percy managed, weakly, casting a glance at the pathetic body on the floor. Aurors were already working, conjuring up thick, unbreakable ropes over Black's unconscious body and searching him and the house for anything dangerous. "I was just doing my job."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron muttered darkly. He scanned the headlines once more, willing the message and the pictures that came with it to vanish, but no such luck.

****

"Sirius Black: Free No Longer!

__

Special Report by Cindy Lane

Sirius Black, escapee and dark wizard at large, was finally apprehended yesterday after over three years on the run from both Wizarding Aurors and Muggle cops. He was found in an abandoned barn house. "Mr. Grim." The muggle who owned the land, Mr. J.C. Pedia, had no idea who was hiding on his property. "I remember something on the new about him," Pedia commented, as Hit Wizards swarmed his house. "Nasty looking fellow. Wouldn't recognize him now, though." Pedia's memory was quickly erased by an Obliviator at the scene. 

There was some evidence that pointed out a possible accomplice and Hit Wizards plan to stay the night to be sure there's not.

The Ministry's Magical Law Enforcement Squads, set out to ensure that Black didn't escape a third time, released a statement saying that not only was Black in secure custody, but he was also proving to be very polite and agreeable to his capturers. They also let it slip that he was accidentally knocked unconscious when an unusually powerful unlocking spell destroyed the door, catching Black on the side of his face. "It's only what he deserved," one Auror commented roughly, preferring to remain anonymous. 

Indeed, many people would agree with that statement. Black was at one time thought to be the brightest and most promising Auror in the history of the Ministry, capturing as many as fifteen Death Eaters at one time (the highest record to date). However, his fame disappeared when he was discovered to be none other than the right hand man of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Black was detected as a spy when he betrayed James and Lily Potter, two of the highest enemies of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Black had become the Potters' Secret Keeper after information from Ministry spies foretold He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's plans on attacking the Potters.

Black is also infamous for his high death records. With only one curse, he destroyed an entire Muggle street, killing twelve Muggles and one wizard, Peter Pettigrew. It is not sure exactly when Black turned or why he remained an Auror, despite the high risk any spy would have in that position. Black had also been best friends with James Potter before the Potters were killed, bringing up many complexions to the story.

After he killed the thirteen people, Black was captured and sent to Azkaban without a trial, due to the ever-increasing power of Aurors under the heading of the late Bartemius Crouch, Sr. He spent fourteen years with nothing other than Dementors to keep him company but Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, claims that Dementors don't affect so powerful a dark wizard.

Black was captured by Percy Weasley, the third son in his family and a hard worker at the Ministry. Weasley had been the personal assistant to Crouch before Crouch's death and had recently been promoted to being the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. His father, Arthur Weasley, also works at the Ministry in the Department of Accidental Magic Reversal, the head of the Muggle Artifacts Office. Percy Weasley was rather quiet about the whole affair, only repeating the fact that he was "only doing [his] job." 

Arthur Weasley refused to comment. 

"They've been acting really strange, especially after [Arthur] got here," Arnold Peasegood, Obliviator, commented. "Arthur took his boy aside and they had some words and when Percy came back, he was all pale and the like."

Both were promoted in light of the situation. Percy Weasley is now the assistant to the Minister himself and Arthur, in an astounding display of Fudge's generosity, was promoted to being the head of Department and Commitees, bringing him to be the next in line, should the Minister be unable to fulfill his duties. However, this extreme promotion brings about little resent in the rest of the Ministry. "He deserves it, he does," said Joe Perkins, Accidental Magic Reversal Department. "Both of them work so hard, 'specially the young one. Can't think of a better Minister--not that he's the Minister or nothing."

Gilbert Whimple, Experimental Charms, Daniel Basil, Department of Transportation,and Michele Mitchell, Council of Magical Law, are some of the many that agree.

Lucias Malfoy, Department of Mysteries, protests that the promotion is too much, too fast. "Weasley is very likely to blow all the money he makes, as well as any chance the Ministry has at having a good Minister, after Fudge. You saw how, after he won that Galleon Draw, he had nothing left after little over one month, and the prize money was five hundred Galleons." Malfoy also claims that he will "be sure to fight this promotion, for the betterment of the Ministry's present and future."

Black's capture brings about many questions about how such a case will proceed in the Council of Magical Law. Since he never had an official trial, Black will be given one day in court. It is unusual for such a wanted man to be given a trial so long after his imprisonment but with the recent reforms of the Ministry, due to certain rumors about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Many cases brought in by the Aurors during the last Dark Magic War are being reviewed. (_Cindy Lane, Daily Prophet Reporter)_

"What have you gone and done this time, Perce?" Ron asked himself. He shook his head. "Harry's going to go mad with this…"

Below that article (and the picture of Sirius being led away) was another, smaller one, but one that presented just as important information.

****

Dementors Vanish; Azkaban Left Without Guard

Dementors, the soul-sucking jailers of the only wizarding jail, Azkaban, have suddenly disappeared. All left their posts, virtually deserting the ranks of Light Magic. No one has any idea where the creatures have gone, and their disappearance leaves many feeling terrified:

"There's so many dark wizards in there. Without someone guarding them, they could get out and destroy the world!"

"It's just like last time, you know. Dark creatures just disappearing. Mark my words: soon we'll see the Dark Mark again, and not just some sick joke like at the Tournament." The Tournament he refers to is last summer's Quidditch World Cup Tournament, where the Dark Mark appeared in the sky sometime in the evening. Both of the above wizards wish to remain anonymous.

Minister Fudge brushed off any questions relating to the dementors at the latest press conference. "The Wizarding Community is scared, I know. They aren't the only ones. But that doesn't make everything an evil omen or the like."

"Of course we're scared, with all the rumors going on. They say [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named]'s back, that Sirius Black has been caught, and that the Death Eaters are coming to. With [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named], who wouldn't be scared? Anything with [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named] frightens the silly out of most people." Arabella Figg refused to say "You-Know-Who, claiming that such titles only inspire more fear into the hearts of wizards and witches. She was one of the more predominant Aurors in the Ministry before she retired fifteen years ago.

The Ministry promise to search out the cause of the dementors' disappearance as well as rumors of other dark creatures' vanishing.

****

Thanks to everyone who reviewed: Jarvey, Kawaii Gurl, Pleiades, ten, barmybeth, Erin, Sara, Nuts, and SuNnY GuRL!

****


	3. A Dream Is Just A Dream

****

Harry Potter and the Divided Four

By Tvillinger

Chapter Three -- A Dream is Just a Dream 

"The heat if the day… I drifted off for just a moment…"

__

Professor Trelawney

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban 

"Harry!"

Harry turned, walking out of Gringotts to see two people rushing towards him. An idiotic grin instantly burned its way across his face.

"Harry, where've you been all summer? Didn't want to talk to us?"

"You won't believe what's been going on-"

"Hermione, Ron, please. One at a time. You're going to blow out my ears, yelling like that," Harry playfully scolded, smiling so wide it felt like his face was going to split. Hermione let out a sobbing sort of laugh and clung to Harry's shoulders in a tight hug. Behind her, Ron was rolling his eyes, grinning.

Sniffing, Hermione drew back and wiped her eyes. "You've been a bloody idiot this summer," she was saying through her tears. "Trying to avoid us and all. We're your friends Harry, and we need you as much as you need us."

"She's just a little hyped up, that's all," Ron explained. "Ginny's the same way, so's our mum. Figure it has something to do with being a witch."

Hermione straightened up and sniffed once more, throwing a glare at Ron. "Come on, we're all heading to the Cauldron."

"Did you just get here?" Harry asked, leaning over to lift one of Hermione's trunks and carry it along. Ron and Hermione nodded. "I've been here for about a week, since my uncle dropped me off somewhere in London."

"He just left you?" Hermione's eyes went wide. "That's-that's-"

"Anything happen? I mean, with You-Know-Who and all?"

Harry shrugged. "No. Someone from the Ministry found me after about an hour and brought me here. I've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Room thirteen, not too far from where I was two years ago."

"Well, that's a relief," Hermione said. "Who knows what could've happened, out by yourself in London. Not everything dangerous has to do with You-Know-oh, this is ridiculous. Can we just say Voldemort?"

Ron flinched but Harry nodded. "You guys think its so easy, just to say that name," Ron replied tensely. "The rest of us pure-bloods were born thinking that name had something to do with every bad thing that ever happened. It's like saying the devil's name. No one knows he's real name, but if they did, I'm sure no one would want to use it."

"Superstition," Hermione muttered.

"How's this: you don't have to say Voldemort," and Ron flinched again, "but me and Hermione can."

"It's not much better," Ron sulked but agreed.

"The train's coming tomorrow; are you guys getting a room at the Cauldron?" Harry asked, changing the subject effortlessly. Hermione nodded.

"Yea, but my family already has reservations," Ron announced. "Best room: Room 1. It's big enough for all of us. If you guys want to stay there too…"

"Reservations?" Harry echoed. "Your whole family's coming? Is something going on?"

"Um…" Ron looked alarmed and Hermione flushed. "Have you…read the paper lately?"

Harry shook his head. "I've been too busy. There's been some Quidditch practices and games going on, and went there wasn't I was trying to just be a part of the wizarding world. I heard about Fred and George's joke shop. The stories about their special items are hilarious!"

Ron pressed the question. "You haven't been keeping up with anything?"

"No, not really. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Harry," Hermione began gently. "Sirius…Sirius was caught."

"What!"

"Right at the start of the summer. He was found in an old shack, not too far from Hogsmeade."

"Percy had something to do with it," Ron put in angrily. "The stupid git didn't know what he was doing; all he thought about was how famous he'd be, capturing the famous Sirius Black."

"But Percy didn't know anything," Hermione added in a rush. "You can't blame him-"

"How's Sirius? Where is he? They didn't," and Harry gulped, "do the Kiss on him, did they?"

Ron shook his head. "Naw, but it wasn't because they felt like being nice. That's another thing: all the dementors are gone. Straight up and vanished from Azkaban. Nobody knows where they went."

"But we do," Hermione stated firmly. "I found at when I went to visit Ron. I tried to tell you about it, so did everyone. But all our owls came back unanswered. My parents were nearly hysteric when they found out about Voldemort."

"Didn't you get Hedwig?" Harry asked. "I sent her to you at the beginning of summer…"

"Fred and George told us. Percy used Hedwig to track you down. Sirius should've noticed something wrong right away. That's the problem with owl tracking spells: they're really obvious. But he didn't and so the Ministry caught him." Ron sounded more tired than angry. "But I thought Percy was good enough to give you back your owl after using her."

"Percy's as upset as anyone," Hermione whispered softly. "You should've seen him when he came back. Mr. Weasley and talked with him and Percy was just destroyed over it. Nearly quit his job but the Minister wouldn't let him. I think he'd scared to see you."

Harry shuddered. "So, where's Sirius right now?" he asked hoarsely.

"Since the dementors left, Azkaban's been off limits so all the dark wizards ans witches held there have been brought back to Britain. All the Aurors have been called up and the Ministry's conjured up a quick jail near Edinburgh. Sirius is in one of the more guarded cells. The spells and charms placed on them are so thick, rumor is you can almost see the magic working."

Ron and Hermione waited while Harry digested this fact. The threesome had paused in the middle of Diagon Alley, making people swerve around them. Harry shuddered again and started walking. "It's getting late," he informed them tightly. "Let's get back to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Harry-"

"Please," and his eyes were so dazed that Hermione quieted. Ron was hushed and they made their way to the to the Cauldron. All the way, people would stop and shake Ron's hand, congratulating the family on the capture of Sirius Black and the more recent family promotions.

"I didn't know your dad got promoted," Harry said after the fifth or sixth witch/wizard came by.

Ron blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not something we're exactly proud of."

The rest of the way, Harry stayed quiet and Ron did his best to turn away any wizard/witch that came by. When they got to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry immediately handed Hermione back her bags, making some comment on how he had to get to his own room.

"So how do you like being famous?" Hermione commented bitterly.

Ron nearly stumbled. "W-what?"

"All those times you got mad because Harry was getting all the attention. How do you feel, being in the spotlight."

"Hey, it's not like I asked for it!" Ron shot out, defensively.

"Neither did Harry." And she turned away.

"Blimey…" Ron shook his head. "Is it just me, or is it just me?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Harry! How are you, dear? Getting enough to eat?"

Harry tried not to wince. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"Good, good. _Fred? George! Get down here and clean up this mess!_ Ron's already told you about…I see he has. Poor dear, not to worry. Arthur won't let anything happen to…you know. _Ginny! Are you all packed? Get down here and say hello to Harry!_ I swear, I never thought these rooms were so big. Miniature houses, they are. And enough places for all the kids to hide." She started humming to herself, switching her attention back and forth between unloading her seemingly endless trunk and letting out a holler for one or more of her kids.

But she was right; the best room at the Leaky Cauldron was more a house than anything else. The manager, Tom, had let Harry in on a little secret: the room was magicked to enlarge or increase its size, according to whoever was lucky enough to stay the night. His words were confirmed when Harry lugged his stuff up the stairs into the room with a large, white 1 on the door. An extra bedroom had appeared almost instantly to fit Harry's needs.

"You must be exhausted, and all this news is bad for you," Molly chided when she saw his condition during the brief intervals of her time spent yelling at the twins. "Why don't you got to your room, take a nap or just rest? The Express is coming tomorrow, so we'll have to be up early." She looked at her family clock, clicking her tongue. "Percy should be coming home. He's been at work all day!"

Percy. Percy. Percy. The name rang in his head, sounding like a dull thud.

Not that he cared. All that mattered now was getting Sirius out of jail. Any way possible. Not even revenge against Percy…well, that could wait.

'The invisibility cloak? Get off it Harry; Hit Wizards probably have all sorts of protection against that kind of stuff. How about if I sneaked in, acting like I wanted to see Fudge, than grab Sirius and threaten to kill him? They'll believe me 'cause they'll think I want revenge or something…'

Harry groaned. 'More likely, they'll stupefy me, thinking Sirius had me under some sort of weird mind game. Or they'll just let me kill him. One less thing for them to do.'

'Thinking about going against trained wizards, Harry?' a snide voice in the back of his mind commented dryly. 'What chance do you _reall_y have against people like Mad-Eye Moody? You couldn't even tell a real wizard from an imposter!'

'You're not helping,' Harry shot back before he realized that he was having conversations with himself. After he briefly wondered if that classified him as insane, he let his brain shut down and thought about the exact time until the Hogwarts Express came.

Sixteen hours, thirty-seven minutes, twenty-something seconds…

Sixteen hours, thirty-three minutes, fifty-something seconds…

Sixteen hours, twenty minutes, fifteen seconds…

__

"Don't make me fight you, Salazar. We were friends, remember?"

"All I remember is Godric, flying his banner high over the school, dirtying the school by allowing mudbloods to enter in. All I remember are the three of you, teaming up against me even before the school's construction began."

"Relashio!"

"Bastard," Helga hissed.

"I'd call you a fool for trusting a dead man."

"Jeez, Harry, get some Dreamless Sleep potion," a familiar voice stopped his dream. "Some of us like to sleep at night."

"Augh!"

Harry opened his eyes for a second, then nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of vivid red hair, the color too remindful of the dream.

Ron's face went blank in surprise, then he was shaking Harry roughly. "Come on, wake up! It's just a dream, Harry. Snap out of it!"

__

"Bastard."

"I'd call you a fool for trusting a dead man."

"Harry!"

"I don't know what's wrong. He was just having a nightmare--I could hear him from the other room. He's always had nightmare, almost every night at Hogwarts, but it's never this bad!"

"He's not waking up, Arthur! He's not waking up!"

"Calm down, Molly. Bill, get the children out of here. Charlie, go see if you can find Moody or Fletcher. Well, what are you still waiting for: move!"

"Dad, I-"

"Percy, I need you to get an owl out to Dumbledore right way."

"Harry? What's going on? What's wrong with Harry!"

"Shh, Ginny, go to bed…"

"Alastor? He's over here."

"Everyone, stand back: _Enverate Arma!_"

It felt like someone was dragging him from a deep lake, but instead of water there was only sand. Harry willed his eyes to open again, trying to focus. 

He could actually remember the conversation around him. It was true, his usual nightmares were never this bad; he never actually got trapped in one before.

Arthur Weasley let out a deep sign of relief and Molly immediately crushed Harry in her arms. "Oh, oh, oh," she repeated, over and over again, each 'oh' punctuated with a little sob.

"Thank you for coming so fast, Alastor," Arthur was saying, fervently shaking hands with the man who's face Harry could never forget, even if he knew the Moody he'd met wasn't the real one. "I wasn't thinking and just panicked."

"It happens," Moody replied gruffly, looking around the room like he was seeking the source of the night's activity. "And idea what caused it?"

Arthur shook his head. "Harry just came up to sleep with us, so he'd have some friends around. No one else heard him except my son Ron, who sleeps right next door. Molly, let up on the poor boy. You're going to suffocate him!"

"Are you alright?" Molly asked, tears in her eyes.

Harry thought of saying something like 'Yea, I'm fine. But you look like you could spend some time in a calming environment. He settled for nodding his head and saying, "Yes, I'm fine."

"What was that all about?" Moody demanded.

The dream flashed through his mind again, still vivid.

__

"Bastard!"

"I'd call you a fool for listening to a dead man."

"I don't remember," he lied slowly, bringing a hand to rub his scar. "It's all so bleary…and I'm really tired…"

"You need your rest!" Molly declared. "And we don't expect you to remember such horrible dreams. Back to bed, now."

Moody glared at Harry, looking like he knew exactly what Harry was thinking and didn't like none of it. His magical eye was rolling around and one of his hands shot out. "Visiting?"

Ron and Hermione were huddled uncomfortably under the invisibility cloak, blushing at being caught. Molly let out a shriek and dead-away fainted.

"That's enough of this," Arthur intoned seriously. "Everyone to bed. Now, I can't thank you enough, Alastor-"

"You've thanked me enough," Moody protested with his dry voice, already leaving. "I'd be in your debt, however, if you'd find some students willing to fill me in on the last year." His magical eyes swirled around to settle on the three; Ron and Hermione were cluttered against Harry's bed, demanding explanations. "Dumbledore's view isn't as complete as I might need. As a future reference, of course," he added, putting a damp mood on the room.

"Of course. I'm sure Harry, Ron, and Hermione wouldn't mind sending you a parchment-"

"I'd like it from their own mouths, if you don't mind," Moody cut in.

Arthur swallowed. "Of course. Good night, Alastor." 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco Malfoy stood before the 'wall' in Kings Cross Station, staring at it uncertainly. It wasn't like he was scared he would run into it…alright, so he was. His magic over the summer had been acting up on him, to the point where he barely trusted it anymore. Nobody else knew, either. Draco snorted. 'It's not exactly something I'd share with Father.'

Not like his father would've been around to hear about it, anyway. Voldemort was back, and the Death Eaters were being revised and cleansed of traitors and weaklings. But they weren't doing much beyond that. Lucius would sometimes let out a hint or two of the Dark Lord's plans but aside that, refused to tell Draco anything. It was frustrating.

A loud conversation behind him drew his thoughts away from his stormy summer and he saw the crowd of flaming red carpet walking towards him. "What a great way to start my school year," he muttered darkly. "Meeting up with the Weasleys before I even step onto the train."

Weasleys. That's all the news had been about, anyway. Their new fame, fortunes, and good tastes. How Molly was just the perfect wife, how intelligent her two twins were. Even interviews with each of the seven children, like having that many kids was something to be proud of.

And leading the pack, as usual, was none other than the would-be god of the wizarding world himself.

"Harry Potter," Draco sneered. "Need an escort? What are you afraid of? Oh, that's right. The Dark Lord's back." His sneer widened. "Better watch your back. It's common knowledge you're at the top of his hit list."

The crowd of Weasley's stopped and, as one entity, turned to stare at Draco.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea, getting in a fight with Potter when he had that whole family to back him up. Not just the four attending Hogwarts, the entire family was there.

"Draco Malfoy, isn't it?" Arthur Weasley frowned. "I didn't know Lucius let his son run around alone in London."

"Yes, what are you doing?" Molly prodded. "Why aren't you on the train, yet?"

"Bet he's scared he can't make it through the wall," one of the twins snickered, and the younger kids and chuckled at this.

Draco blushed angrily, clenching his fists. "Congratulations on your promotion, Mr. Weasley," he stated, shocking the family into silence. "It's about time. You wouldn't have done the Ministry no good, starving to death just to keep that playground you call a home."

"Why you little-"

"Ron!" Molly shirked, grabbing her son before his fist could connect with Draco's face. Her husband didn't look any better.

Draco made a flourish of the hand. "Trying to hit me? That's not a very good move, considering…"

"Considering you're probably off at Voldemort's side every night, begging for scraps," Ron shouted.

Draco flushed. "Watch what you're saying, _Weasley_."

"Ron," and Potter intervened, sending his friend a warning look. The mudblood Granger looked like she was shaking in fury, but she must've read enough about the Dark Lord to know when to keep her mouth shut. The rest of the family was stone-stiff, watching the interchange with barely checked rage.

Without another word, Potter strolled by, keeping his eyes straight ahead, and walked through the barrier. His friends followed, the last being Ginny. When he was left alone with just the older siblings and the parents, Draco began to edge to the barrier himself.

They watched him all the way.

****

Thanks again! Wolf of Solitude (I didn't mean to bug you, honest!) 


	4. What Comes, Will Come

****

Harry Potter and the Divided Four

By Tvillinger

Chapter Four -- What Comes, Will Come 

__

We will see each uzzer again I 'ope

Fleur Delacour

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Nobody, absolutely nobody attending Hogwarts expected that year to be normal, not after last year's Triwizard Tournament results. Not after Dumbledore's disturbing (to say the least) announcement.

Harry tugged his robes tighter around his neck, trying to ignore the hush that fell over his classmates when he walked towards them and the stirring murmur that followed his departure. Ron walked by his sides, brief fight forgotten as the two friends silently supported each other. No words were spoken; none were needed. Hermione, in her haste, had left Crankshafts in her room and received permission to stay behind to pick up her beloved cat, as long as she stayed near Arthur Weasley.

Ron stirred as the Express let out a gush of black smoke before lurching forward, gaining speed, and starting its daylong trip. Exhausted from the night's tricks, Harry pressed his scarred forehead against the cool window, watching the scenery go by.

Their compartment door opened and the twins slid in, identical grins on their faces. "Don't tell us you're planning on sleeping the whole way to Hogwarts," Fred complained with a smile.

Ron sat up, looking a bit miffed. "It's not like we slept a great deal last night-" He promptly shut his mouth at the growing grins, not trusting the twins in the least.

Fred turned to George. "It looks like they need a good Pepper-Up potion," he declared in solid, professional tones despite the grin on his face.

George nodded with the same solemnity. "That… or a good practical joke. _Say_, we're planning a trip down to the stinky Slytherin part of the train."

"If you don't mind," Harry interrupted, "I agree with Ron." Yawn. "Too tired."

Fred scoffed. "You'd turn down the chance to introduce Malfoy to a whole new year at Hogwarts? Not to mention all the first year Slytherins?"

The door opened again to show in Neville, looking worse for wear. His face was red and burned the skin off his nose beginning to peel. He gave a start when he saw the four already in the room. "Oh. I thought this room was empty-"

"Blimey, Neville!" Ron shot to his feet. "What happened to you?"

Harry was sure Neville was blushing but couldn't tell for sure since the boy's face was already red. "I accidentally walked into a room with some Slytherins talking and…" He trailed off with a shrug. "I think it was Malfoy who threw the curse."

Ron was at the door. "That git Malfoy things he can get away with anything," he fumed, hurriedly shoving his wand down his pocket. He stopped to glare at everyone. "Well, are you coming?"

"Coming where?" Professor McGonagall opened the door just in time to hear Ron's last words. Her eyes traveled across the compartment. When she saw Neville, her hands flew to her mouth. "Good heavens, child! What on earth happened to you? No, no. Don't talk. Off to Pomfrey right this instance."

She turned on the twins. "I hope this isn't one of your 'practical' jokes, Weasley-"

"It was Malfoy!" Ron burst out. "We were on our way to…" Seeing McGonagall raise her eyebrows, Ron went red, realizing what he was about to confess to.

"Discuss," Harry volunteered.

"Yea, 'discuss' what he did to Neville."

"Hmph. I'm sure this discussion would likely involve cursing and flying fists." She sniffed. "I'd appreciate it if you three would refrain from taking this into your own hands. I'll deal with Mr. Malfoy later." She paused to let her words sink in. "Good, now Ronald, I trust your owl reached you this year, giving you a certain letter."

Ron blushed, surprising Harry. "Yes."

McGonagall reached into her pocket. "You agree?" Ron nodded. "Very well. Here's your badge." And she dropped a prefect's badge into Ron's hand.

Harry was thunderstruck. Fred and George stared a moment before laughing, slapping Ron on the back. "Prefect? Way to go, Ron! Soon, you'll be working down at the Ministry, alias 'Weatherby.'" Ron's blush deepened and he stuttered for words.

"And just what it the problem?" McGonagall's eyebrows crinkled. "There's nothing wrong with being a prefect. It is a great honor, in fact."

"Of course it is," Harry agreed smoothly, cutting her mini-speech off.

McGonagall "Hmph"ed again, glaring at the snickering twins. "Well, I'll be off to take care of Mr. Malfoy. Again, let me assure you that should I find out or hear of you, any of you, trying to attack Draco or get your revenge or something akin to that, not only will I take away points, but each of you will receive detention because I specifically told you not to. And Harry," she added, "the Headmaster would like to see you immediately, once you arrive at school."

"Wonder why," Harry remarked as McGonagall left, shortly followed by two twins muttering, "She said _if_ she finds out. Left us a loophole to work with."

"Probably those dreams of yours," Ron replied listlessly. He was starring at the badge in his hands. "Prefect… what was I thinking?"

"Well, with both you and Hermione being prefects this year, we can get away with a lot more than we ever have." Harry tried to laugh but it went flat with a sigh. If anything, Ron looked worse. "I'm sorry, Ron—congratulations, anyhow."

At Hogwarts, Harry dutifully stepped off his carriage, leaving Ron alone with Dean Thomas, Seamus, and a healed but red Neville. Walking away from the four, Harry wandered through the castle-school until he reached the stone gargoyle, surprised to see it already swinging opened. Up the stairs, bits of conversation flew down to Harry, freezing him where he stood.

"-gone, so we can't-"

"-Dementor's Kiss-"

"-never had a trial-"

"-insane!"

Harry raced up the stairs to find Dumbledore sitting behind his deck with a serene look to his face despite the fierce argument going on before him. Remus was there, along with Arthur Weasley (which meant Hermione was at school already, Harry noted) and two others Harry didn't quite recognize. One was an old witch dressed in old robes Harry was sure he knew. The other was an equally old wizard, looking strong despite his age.

They were yelling back at Cornelius Fudge, Lucius Malfoy, and two other Ministry workers. Harry noticed a pale, dark robed wizard behind the Minister, shocked to remember the wizard as being one of those 'unmentionables' Ron had pointed out back at the Quidditch World Cup. Bode or Croaker was his name.

As if he heard Harry's thoughts, the unmentionable turned to stare at the boy with deep, unreadable eyes. Harry gulped.

Dumbledore smiled as he saw Harry. "Hello, Harry. Glad to see you've made it to another year at Hogwarts without any mishaps."

Fudge noticed Harry at the same time, watching him with ill-disguised disgust. "Yes, hello Mr. Potter. What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

He could feel everyone's eyes on him now. "Professor McGonagall said you wanted to see me, sir," Harry addressed Dumbledore, determined not to let anyone see how nervous he was. "The stone gargoyle was already opened, so I just came up."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Yes, I do need to speak with you. Would you mind taking a seat? I'm afraid you'll have to wait for this meeting to end."

Just as Harry nodded and sat down, Fudge stood and gathered his robes together. "We're all through here."

"No we're not!" the witch beside Remus shot back angrily. She motioned to Dumbledore. "Dumbledore tells us that You-Know-Who is back, and you don't believe him despite all the evidence that's clearly given to us." Her eyes flashed, making her spirit appear much younger than her body. "You-Know-Who was never one to be subtle. The signs are all there-"

"Sirius Black was the cause for those unfortunate attacks," Fudge denied coldly. "He is a murderer, just adding more souls to his lists. And since he's been put into custody, there have been no more of these so-called 'signs.'"

"What about the muggles?" Arthur pressed.

Lucius Malfoy sneered, reminding Harry violently of his son, Draco. The two were almost carbon copies of each other. "What do muggles and their society have to do with anything, Weasley?" The same taunt, the same drawls. Harry shook his head.

Arthur's ears went pink but he wasn't thrown off. "Ever since summer began, the muggle economy all over the world has been failing, going down. I think that You-Know-Who is the cause of this."

"Muggles are unstable savages," Lucius countered smoothly. "Their economy and nations have failed before, not because of some dark art but because the muggle world is, as a whole, stupid. Are you going to blame every mishap on some Dark Lord's return?"

He looked straight to Fudge. "If you announce that You-Know-Who has been revived and is returned, not only will you be supporting a lie, you'll also be responsible for the mass hysteria that will overtake our communities. Wizards and witches will panic and become like Alastor Moody, attacking everything that moves. Our economy will fail, just like the muggles, for no better reason than an untimely rumor. That's just where it'll start.

"If you then try to retract your statement that the Dark Lord has risen, you'll lose all control as Minister of the wizarding world because they'll be too frightened to listen to reason, preferring to believe that you're working with the Dark Lord and think you a traitor. Total chaos is the only thing that will come of you following that choice."

Lucius let out a small smirk of triumph appear on his face as Fudge considered his words.

"Voldemor' is returned," the wizard beside Arthur intoned in hie deep voice. "'nd if ya don't see it, if ya don't see 'im leavin' behind 'im a trail to laugh at us with, than ya be as blind as bats. Don'e ya remember back, when Gridelwald star'ed 'is trip ta power, an' nobody though' he cad do it? 'e was messin' wi' tha muggles 'nd caus'd tha Grea' Depressin of America."

"Not, that is an unfounded rumor," Fudge pointed out.

The wizard shook his head. "Grindlewald, 'e said so 'imself, so it be tha truth. Called it 'is 'obby."

"You-Know-Who hates muggles, he wouldn't bother with them," Lucius snarled.

"That be jus' another reason for 'im to toy wi' 'em."

"Why start now," an official beside Fudge asked. "In the last war, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named kept strictly to the wizarding world, making sure not even his agents of death, the Death Eaters, made appearances to muggles. He only concerned himself with wizards."

The other unnamed official, a witch, cleared her throat loudly.

"And witches," the first added with a smile.

Harry realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that the witch was none other than Rita Skeeter. Seeing his recognition, Rita winked brazenly before going back to taking notes on the meeting. It wasn't too small a relief to Harry when he saw her taking notes with her own hand instead of using that lying magical notebook to do it for her.

"We still haven't settled the issue of Sirius Black," Remus stated softly but firmly. "That is the main reason why I'm here, at least."

Fudge nodded with a little disgust, probably at having to deal with a werewolf. "Very well. As I said, the dementors are gone, and we still have no idea where they've went. The only other choice we have, aside from killing the villain ourselves—and that's too muggle—is to keep him locked up, though few believe that even Ministry wizards can keep Black from escaping. Goodness knows that if he can escape from Azkaban…"

Remus seemed to wilt. "So…there will be no trial?" Every word sounded painful.

Fudge drew himself up. "I should think not. There's not a single shred of evidence to support his innocence." Harry had to bit his lip to keep from screaming something rather vulgar at the Minister.

"You evaded my question," the Ministry wizard chided slyly, smiling at Remus. "Why would You-Know-Who start to concern himself with muggles when he never has before?"

"I think the answer to your question lies in the boy sitting before you," Dumbledore spoke, quieting the others. He had stayed silent through the argument before.

Again the eyes were back on him. Harry stuttered, "M-me?"

With that trademark smile of his, Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, you Harry. Everyone knows that Harry's protection against the Death Eaters—and against Voldemort, himself—comes from those Voldemort considers worse than the dirt on our feet: his only living relatives, the Dursleys, and Lily herself.

"It is common knowledge that Lily was a muggle-born witch, one of those Voldemort specifically targeted through the war. When she died to save Harry, she planted a spell in his very skin that stopped Voldemort from even being able to touch him. This from one who Voldemort considered the very lowest being of life.

"Living with his blood relatives also gives Harry protection against Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters. His house is not only unplottable, it is unenterable without specific welcome into it. There are wards preventing wizards and witches from apparating or disapparating, as well as charms that measure the amount of magic being used in the vicinity. And Harry cannot be forced against his will to leave his house, magically or otherwise. Many Death Eaters that would have remained uncaptured through the years have been caught trying to attack or kidnap Harry before his years at Hogwarts."

During his whole speech, almost every witch or wizard winced with the word "Voldemort."

Dumbledore stared into everyone's faces, like he was trying to measure the amount of trust he saw in them. "That is one reason he is attacking the muggle world: he's venting his frustration at being defeated by a muggle.

"The other reason is because Voldemort enjoys nothing more than tormenting the weak. Who weaker than the magic-less?"

His speech over, Dumbledore fell quiet again. Fudge looked about to say something but the unmentionable strode to the middle of the room, cutting short all conversation as he tilted his head in respect to Dumbledore. "The Ministry has a press conference with several news companies, including the Daily Prophet." Rita gathered all her notes with a wicked smile. "You'll have to excuse us."

Dumbledore nodded, standing to shake everyone's hands. "Minister Fudge, Lucius, Marcus, it was been a pleasure. Miss Skeeter, I've heard that you've changed your ways." Rita smiled and shook his hand. Fudge, Lucius, and Skeeter all made their way to the door, walking down the stairs to leave.

When they left, Remus smiled tightly, walking over to Harry. "Hello, Harry. I haven't seen you since your third year. _Snuffles_—what a stupid name—tells me that you've had quite a year."

"Professor." Harry began but Remus stopped him.

"Please, just Remus. 'Professor Lupin' makes me feel like an old boggart."

"What happened?" Harry questioned anxiously. "You look like the walking dead."

"Remus, there's a man waiting for you down in Hogsmeade," Professor McGonagall interrupted as she walked into the room. "By the name of Romulus."

Remus paled and stood. "I sorry, Harry, I have to go," he apologized. "That's my brother. But, owl know how to reach me, it you need to talk." He stretched out a hand.

Harry stood as well, bypassing the hand to hug his former teacher. "It's not your fault, you know."

Remus stiffened, then slowly relaxed, returning the hug uncertainly. He stared at Harry a moment before shaking his head in amazement and following McGonagall out the door.

"What's not his fault?" Arthur asked gently.

"Sirius getting captured. I think he blamed himself for that."

Marcus was staring at Harry. "So, you're the famous Harry Potter? From all the stories, I expected some lanky teen looked like trouble unleashed, but you're…" he paused, "… James."

"Harry, this is Marcus Baker, chief head of the Ministry's Department of Mystery," Dumbledore introduced. The two shook hands. "And this is William Croaker, Investigative Wizard also known as an Unmentionable." Croaker nodded in acknowledgement but didn't look the type to shake hands. "The witch on your left is Arabella Figg, and the wizard beside her is Mundungus Fletcher." He stopped to look Harry in the eyes. "Everyone here knew your parents at one time or another, Harry."

All Harry could do was nod, feeling struck and confused.

Dumbledore brought his hands together. "Now Harry, Arthur tells me you've had trouble sleeping."

"Did you notice Snape's not here?" Ron commented as way of greeting when Harry finally got to the Great Hall. He gestured to the empty seat at the teachers' table. "Though maybe he was just walking around, but nobody's seen him. And bloody half of the Slytherins aren't here, either."

Harry pulled out a seat, letting himself fall into it. "Did all the first years get sorted, then?" Hermione's chair was still empty. The rest of the Gryffindor table, the rest of the school, actually, was actively engaged in conversation.

Ron shook his head. "No, there aren't any."

"What?"

"That's what _I_ thought. But none came, like magic just skipped a generation." Ron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It can't all be a coincidence, now can it? Slytherins not showing up and no first years, not to mention Snape's disappearance-"

He stopped as Hermione raced to the Gryffindor table, hurriedly sliding into her chair. She looked tired, like she'd come off a marathon. Neither boys could say a word because Dumbledore appeared as suddenly as Hermione, choosing that moment to stand at his seat and call out for everyone's attention.

"As some of you may notice," he was saying, "there are two teachers we have missing this year, as well as the infamous Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position that has to be replaced. You Potions teacher—and head of the Slytherin House, Professor Snape, has informed me over the summer that he cannot teach this year."

The Slytherins looked confident, like they already knew or were expecting that bit of news.

"Hagrid, teacher of the Care of Magical Creatures, has also been unable to return this year." A ripple of noise went through the Great Hall. "Of course, we'll be sorry to see them go, especially Professor Snape-"

"Yea!" Fred and George cheered.

"But replacement have already been found," Dumbledore continued airily, like he hadn't heard the interruption. "Professor Croaker from the Ministry has agreed to teach Potions this year, becoming the head of the Slytherin House as well. And Charlie Weasley enthusiastically signed up to be our new teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures." He waited for the applause to die down as the two strolled to the staff table, taking their seats.

"You didn't tell us Charlie was teaching," Hermione whispered to Ron.

He shrugged with a grin on his face. "I didn't know either. But… an Unmentionable! Blimey! Never thought one of them would show their faces for more than a day. They're really secretive and all."

"And I'd like to welcome our next teacher to our school. Many of you will know Fleur Delacour from last year's Triwizard Tournament. She asked to teach here at Hogwarts and came highly recommended."

There was a silence as Fleur seemed to descend into the Great Hall, walking silently to the staff table. Suddenly, the room erupted in cheers and screams, boys standing to clap their hands while the girls tried to hide their jealous expressions. Fleur blushed and her conversation with the other teachers was lost to the noise but the nervous look to her face melted away with the students' welcome.

Dumbledore smiled and had to wait several minutes for the noise to die down. "Fleur Delacour has kindly accepted our invitation to teach as our new Defense Against the Dark Arts, but she asks that our students forgive her poor English."

"I'll forgive anything!" some guys yelled from the Hufflepuff table. He was immediately tackled by a raging girlfriend.

"There is a bit of stirring news I must make," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Most of you are unaware as to how Head Boys and Girls are chosen each year. I will try to give you a simplified version of this process but it is basically the same as how the champions were chosen last year for the Tournament. Every six-year student's name is placed within the Sorting Hat, the Hat then being free to sort through the names and choose a single boy and girl who have excelled in their Hogwarts' schooling, in one way or another.

"The process usually takes less than an hour, so the future Heads are informed the end of their sixth year. However, there are some occasions where the Sorting Hat, for various reasons, does not make a selection among the sixth-years." His eyes were glancing around the anxious Great Hall, never staying in one place too long. "There are no logical explanations for these occurrences, as magic is a very shaky thing. Yet, in each of those previous occurrences, there were still only two students chosen and those students were chosen within a few hours.

"The Sorting Hat has been feed with the name of every Hogwarts student and has just an hour ago informed me of this years Head Boys and Head Girls. When I call your name, please rise and come to the staff table to accept your badge."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and looked down at the parchment slips before him. "Draco Malfoy." The hiss that came with that name was unmistakable. Several Gryffindors stood with loud protests but Malfoy calmly rose from his seat to receive the shiny badge from McGonagall. "Padma Patil." Padma looked like a deep caught in headlights but her table cheered her on, as well as some Gryffindors as her twin leaped to her feet and screamed congratulations.

Everyone started getting nervous when Dumbledore remained standing after the two Heads were chosen, more slips of parchment still in his hands. "Hannah Abbot."

"What?" Hannah blushed as her voice echoed through the Hall but made her shaky way up to the front. She seemed to be making a fuss with McGonagall and looked like she wasn't going to accept the badge until Professor Sprout leaned over and made a discreet comment.

"And Ronald Weasley."

"Ron, Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Ron, that's you!" She tugged at his sleeve. "Well, go on." Ron shook his head than half-ran up to the headmaster, looking over dazed. Hermione smiled and whispered to Harry, "I bet he never thought he'd ever be in the spotlight."

"Seeing as I have no more announcements, I'll leave you to eat. Halen-An-Toe, Veri-dum!"

The food appeared and Ron slumped into his chair, staring at the glittering badge in his hands. "Head Boy? I'm a Head Boy?"

"Percy's gonna be berserk," Fred laughed, slapping Ron's back again. The younger brother didn't seem to notice.

****

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I told the really nice folks that asked that I can only update on Thursdays and I was late this week! Sorry! 


	5. Captured!

****

Harry Potter and the Divided Four

By Tvillinger

Chapter Five -- Beginnings of an Alliance

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Instantly, Harry felt a jerk, somewhere beneath his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard cup; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind…

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire 

"So, you're going to be a Prefect and a Head Boy?" Harry asked. "How exactly is that going to go?" 

"I don't think anything's going to be like how it usually is," Ron replied slowly, making his way to Gryffindor. The noisy second years followed behind him. "I mean, four head students isn't normal at all."

"It's never happened before," Hermione muttered. She was looking at Ron with a new look in her eyes. "Do you have any idea why you got chosen?" Ron shook his head.

"Well, it can't be because of your marks," Hermione was talking to herself. "Or if it is, that's not the only reason. And it's not logical that they'd chose you because of all the… things that have happened through the years. If that was the reason, Harry would be Head Boy, no offense."

"None taken."

Hermione settled with shrugging. "We'll find out later, I guess. Right now," and her eyes shimmered, "we're Prefects so we better act like it."

"Maybe McGonagall didn't know you'd be a Head Boy until we got to school. She'll probably make you give your Prefect Badge back," Harry said.

Ron clutched the Prefect Badge defensively in his hands. "She'll have to personally chop my hands off and pry my fingers open to get it back," he vowed viciously. "I'm not going to give up this chance to gloat at Percy…"

"Don't look at me like that," Harry tried to smile. "I'm not going to go insane whenever I hear Percy's name."

"You're taking this really calmly," Hermione observed lightly, eyes flickering over Harry's face nervously.

Harry shrugged, keeping his eyes straight ahead so that his friends wouldn't see how dark they were. "I was just thinking everything over and I realize that Percy probably didn't know what he was doing, so I can't hate him. And from what I've heard about the dementors disappearing, I know that Sirius can't have his soul sucked out. There's nothing I can do right now, nothing that Professor Lupin hasn't already tried. So I'll just let this mess work itself out."

Hermione was nodding proudly and Ron looked relieved. Neither of them noticed how silent Harry fell after that, nor did they have any idea of what Harry was planning. They'd be insane if they actually believed that Harry planned to let the matter be.

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"When you 'ave finished with ze test, you will 'ave enough time to start on ze 'omework ezzay for tonight." Professor Delacour, Harry still had trouble thinking of her in terms of a professor, was walking around the classroom, handing out a sheet of parchment to each student with a set of directions on it. "Ze 'omework iz to list what you want to learn in ze next two weeks. I am going to pick ideas from your suggestions so pick wisely."

Harry looked over his assignment, mentally checking off what he could do with ease and what he'd have to spend more time on. The first few questions asked Harry to list off the different traits of fairies and how they were related to their cousins, pixies and fae. Harry smiled, remembering when Fleur had brought in all three types of magical creatures and the small riot that had followed that, when the pixies decided the class wasn't lively enough without rainbows everywhere. The fairies had joined in, randomly picking out a student to change his or her hair, eye, and skin color. And above the chaotic scenes, the fae, glowing orbs of light, floated and periodically flew down to help save a student from the other two species.

His eyes drifted through the test, seeing nothing he'd have too big a problem against. The toughest questions had Harry writing a short paragraph on the dangers of an unregistered Animagus, explaining the steps to creating and improving protections charms, and listing several facts about the dark creatures the class had covered (vampires, werewolves, dementors, and ghouls).

__

Vampires: Suck blood, turn into bats, their blood can heal any infection or disease, can't survive sunlight, strong at night, allergic to garlic

Werewolves: only dangerous to humans once a month, weak after transformations, bite can be cured if treated within 48 hours, highly allergic to silver, mind taken over by instinct during full moon, can fight wolf instinct by using Wolfsbane

Dementors: 'Kiss' sucks soul out of you, take away good memories and makes you relive bad ones, driven away by the patronus charm, takes away a wizard's power if nearby too long, slightly allergic to sunlight

Ghouls: slimy, noisy, likes to throw things around, twisted ghosts, like to stay in closed, dirty/dusty areas, harmless if you can dodge the stuff they throw, can't be banished without advanced magic.

Finished! The thought rang triumphantly through Harry's head and he glanced up to see more than half of the class time left over. His test floated up into the air, buzzing over everyone's head to land neatly on the teacher's desk. Around him, Hermione and Ron were bent over their papers, Ron muttering "Stupid charms…don't need to improve them. Supposed to be good enough the first time."

Within the next few minutes, Harry's homework was also lying on his table, completed as well. Sending his friends another glance, Harry pulled out a plain sheet of parchment from his robes, taking a quill out and writing: _Are you there?_

Seconds later, cursive and neat handwriting bloomed onto the parchment. _Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"_

Harry smirked. _I am. We have a test in DADA but I'm finished._

Well… You're not supposed to be writing to me too much. You might get caught.

Don't act like you don't want me to write. I bet you were waiting for me or else you wouldn't have answered so quickly.

That's not the point! Harry could almost see his former professor's grin. _I still can't believe you managed to talk me into this._

How's Sirius?

He's doing well. Or at least as well as can be expected. You should be proud of that Weasley family; Arthur and Percy are giving the Ministry hell about the incomplete facts and corrupted data in Sirius' file. Arthur won't let anyone forget the fact that Sirius never got a trial. Between the two of them, a lot of people are coming around.

Is there anything I can do?

No, Harry. We've already been over this. If you're not careful, anything can happen to you. There was a pause and Remus' hand spilled out his last words: _Don't try anything stupid and be on your guard. I've got to go._

With a sigh, Harry watched the black ink stain the parchment for a few minutes before it slowly faded, being absorbed into the stiff paper. After awhile, the parchment was clean again, looking innocently clear and not like a magical communication device Harry had invented.

Hermione was giving him a strange look but Harry pretended not to notice, focusing instead on the wand in his hands. He twirled it, sending small sparks under the table. Ron looked up, raising his eyebrows. Soon, the two were trying to outdo each other without drawing anyone's attention.

Harry frowned as small red and gold flowers appeared from Ron's wand, the flowers floating together, colliding into a small pile of petals. With another wave, Ron transfigured the pile into a small, hand-sized lion. It crawled under the tables, stalking Harry's shoe until it pounced, pin-sized nails raking Harry's feet. It let out a soft "roar!" then burst into mini-fireworks, light dulled so Fleur didn't see.

Ron smirked, shrugging a shoulder and daring Harry to outdo that. Taking a deep breath and a quick glance around the oblivious class, Harry conjured up a rose with white petals, its stem and thorns black. He blew the rose up until it was as long as his leg from the knee down and transfigured it into a turtle that snapped playfully at Ron's leg, making the red-head jump. The turtle dropped to its shelled belly, pulling its head and legs into the shell, and shrinked down to the size of a pin. The black-and-white pin floated a second in the air before dropping to the floor with an innocent "ping!"

Ron stared at it before leaning over to pick it up, turning the pin over and over in his hands, trying to figure out its secret. Harry swallowed his laugh when the pin's delayed bomb blew up in Ron's hand, leaving black-and-white paint all over Ron's robes and hands. Ron glared a moment, muttering a cleaning charm, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Very ghood tranzviguration," a soft voice said and the three frooze. Fleur stood there, arms crossed, and the rest of the class stared on. More than a few were snickering at the expression on Harry and Ron's faces. "'Owever, it iz not a ghood idea to pratize thiz in my class. Five points from Gryffindor." Ron's face was on fire but Harry found that the half-Veela's charms no longer affected him.

"Sorry, professor," Harry apologized, seeing that Ron was in no condition to do so.

Fleur nodded but paused. "Tell me, what iz it zat you used to do zat?"

"The transfigurations?" She nodded again. "Nothing. We just conjured up some flowers and changed them. Ron turned his into a small lion then into fireworks. I turned mine into a turtle than a pin bomb full of paint."

"Zat iz very advanzed magic," Fleur said, sounding impressed. "You two must be very ghood in you clazez." She went on to answer a question Neville had before going back to the front of the room, reminding the last few strangling through the test (Neville) that there was less than five minutes left in class. "If you are finished, you may go. But-" she added hastily, yelling over the sudden noise as chairs scrapped against the floor and students began excited conversations, "you 'ave to be quiet! And don't fo'get your 'omework."

"What were you two thinking? Honestly, some days I'd swear you get in trouble purposely," Hermione huffed indignantly. "And where did you get so good at transfiguration? I don't know how you did it, seeing as all you two do is play around-"

"Hermione, will you please calm down? If you don't give me a headache, you'll give yourself one." Hermione glared at Ron but shut up. Ron smiled and put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close as the three walked down the hall to the Great Hall. He didn't seem to notice her blush. "There, now. Better? So, I'd say it's about lunch time-"

Harry let out a small gasp and turned on his heels. "Oh no, I forgot my books in the class!"

"We're not that far," Hermione replied with a dry voice, shifting her shoulders. "You can catch up with us in the Great Hall. We'll save you a seat."

"We always do," Ron added.

Harry smiled (neither of his friends noticed how forced the smile was) and thanked them before taking off.

After rounding a few corners, Harry slowed to a stop and glanced over his shoulder to make sure his friends didn't try to follow him with some last minute comment. Seeing no one, Harry let out a relieved breath and took off again, this time going much slower. He passed the DADA classroom, smiling a greeting to Fleur who had started grading the test. He didn't stop until he reached the library.

"If Hermione only knew," he muttered to himself, walking through the doors.

Madam Price looked up and smiled thinly at Harry. "Good day, Mr. Potter. You seem to be spending much more time in here than you usually do. Do you need help finding something?"

Getting on the lady's good side had taken Harry over a week of constant flattery but he'd made it. Smiling, Harry shook his head indulgently. "No, I'm only here for the chance to talk with one of the more intellectual ladies of the castle." Madam Price blushed, brining a hand up to cover her giggle. "How are you doing, Madam?"

"Very good, Harry. Nice of you to ask."

He smiled slyly. "Did you ever find those first years who charmed the pages to stick together?"

She shook her head. "No, but with those extra charms you suggested, they'll be caught any day now."

Harry didn't think they would, because he had been the one behind the charmed pages. He'd needed a reason to get on Madam Price's good side and teaming up with her against "irresponsible mischief makers" presented the opportunity to do just that. "Well, I don't doubt it. So, if you need me to do anything…"

"Dear boy!" Madam Price exclaimed. "You've done more for me than any other student has. Just by asking me how my day was and coming to visit--if there's anything _I_ could do for _you_, please ask!"

Harry laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're exaggerating but thanks. That really made my day. Anyway, I'll be off, expanding my knowledge on some subject or other." He shared a warm smile and wandered off, looking like he really was just picking a book out at random to study from. Madam Price gave him a favored smile before frowning darkly at a pair of second years arguing loudly. She stormed off, leaving the forbidden section of the library free for Harry's browsing.

Pulling the invisibility cloak from his school bag, Harry slipped in, glancing around to make sure no teachers were in there. The other day, he had the unfortunate experience of having to sit perfectly still for a near hour as Snape went through book after book, a dark scowl on his face. Just as Harry was sure he couldn't hold back his sneeze any longer, the potions teacher slammed his last book down and stalked off in a rage at his inability to find whatever he was looking for. Afterwards, Harry had glanced through the books Snape left scattered across the floor but couldn't make heads or tails of the books' subjects. All dealt with ancient and forgotten curses, most from the ages where magic was practiced freely and muggles weren't as ignorant as they were now.

Once specific curse caught Harry's attention but the page's title had been torn off so he didn't know exactly what curse it was. All he knew was that it took so much energy the last and only time it had ever been performed that over half of the phoenix population had died, passing their energy onto the wizard casting the spell. The birds' population never regained its previous number and experts speculated that it was because the dead phoenixes were not really dead, as that type of bird cannot truly die, but were postponing their rebirth, still paying the energy price of the spell.

The wizard who cast the spell was not mentioned by name per se, but by his accomplishments. He defeated the most notorious of dark wizards there ever was or ever would be, a dark wizard so powerful that his influence spread through the centuries, slid into the hearts of his descendants and that almost all dark magic was traced to him. Just as almost every dark wizard claimed to have his blessing, his blood flowing through their bones. And for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out who this all-powerful dark wizard was and he had a feeling that he didn't want to.

Harry dropped the invisibility cloak to the floor, in reach if he needed to hide quickly but not in the way of his search.

He was in here for a project, one to help not only free Sirius but to prove his innocence. There was already a sizable part of the library that Harry had searched through but the books had magicked themselves back onto the shelves, in order and everything. Several titles leaped out at him:

"_Memory Charms: Remember and Forget_."

"_Truth Charms, Spells, Potions, and More_!"

"_Pensieves Unleashed_"

"_OBLIVERATE! The Reverseless Memory Deleter_."

"_Dark Arts Encylopedia XXXVII: Memories and the Exploitation Thereof_."

Harry finally settled for reading the book "_Explosions of the Mind--Show your friends what you 'really' saw_." It was a book that taught how to project one's memories into an illusion that everyone could see. The problems with the spell was that it required a lot of energy, the person who's memories were being shown could corrupt the illusion, showing what they wanted everyone to see, and of course that the magic was dark magic.

A conversation just beyond the restricted section's door caught Harry's attention as well as the approaching footsteps accompanying it. Quickly grabbing the invisibility cloak and pushing his body into a corner, Harry went stone-still, waiting for whoever was beyond the door to enter.

"… not only is he insulting _my_ intelligence with these childish acts, he's acting like we don't notice what he's doing. They should have kicked him off the ghost committee a long time ago."

"Hmm." The door opened and Madam Price swished her wand hurriedly, cleaning up the mess of books Harry had accidentally left behind him. His saving grace was that she was in such a hurry, Madam Price didn't notice that someone had been rummaging through the forbidden section. The woman behind her, a tall and stiff elder with graying hair and a rough look to her, had her chin in her hand, absently listening to the Madam's gossip.

"There we are, Miss Morgana," the madam announced, smiling brightly as her wand whisked away the reluctant cobwebs clinging to the older books. "The headmaster said that you'd find your way by yourself soon enough, but if you need anything I'll be at my desk.

Morgana's wrinkled features rolled up in a smile and she nodded her thanks. "I believe there are students out there, wrecking havoc even as we speak, who need your strict discipline to shoe them the true library ways."

Whatever she meant, Madam Price left promptly and her voice could be heard calling out, yelling at students to be quiet.

Morgana "hmm"ed again, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, then attacked the bookshelves with an appetite. While one hand was filled with an open book that her eyes skimmed, the other was waving about, calling more and more books to her. There was soon a pile as large as Harry's at the old woman's feet and it was growing larger by the moment.

"No… no… no… no." Her muttering filled the air, angry and disheartening. As she slammed the book she read shut, throwing it into the air where it zoomed back to the shelf, she picked out another book, repeating the exercise over and over again. "Curses… no. Hexes… no. Salazar… no."

Harry suddenly got the creepy feeling that not only was this Morgana character looking up the same curse as Snape, but that the curse had something to do with that reoccurring nightmare of his.

__

The phoenix swayed from side to side, as if it were being drained.

"You must say the words and focus. Don't worry about the future; just say the words"

"You think he can curse me?"

"And it'll all be over."

He held his hand out to stop his fall as a sudden wave of dizziness came over him. A few books fell from the shelves but Morgana didn't notice. The woman just continued her murmurs, her search for a curse that Harry realized he knew about.

"No! Darn it!" Morgana threw the book down with such force that it slammed against the ground before floating with a defeated air to its place on the shelves. All movement ceased in the face of the woman's rage, books hanging uncertainly in the air, waiting for her magic to command them. She waved her wand and the books flew back to the shelves, leaving her alone in the room, an anguished look on her face. Morgana plucked one book from the air, desperation written in her motions, and she half-heartedly skimmed through the written words, growing feebler with time. "The spell you want no longer exists, Dumbledore," Morgana suddenly said to the empty (save Harry) room.

Without warning, Dumbledore appeared in the room, looking semi-disgruntled. "You've finished your search, then?" he asked Morgana, the discomfort in his features fading.

Morgana nodded and tossed the book to the headmaster who quickly read the open pages. "Oh dear, is that so?"

"'Is that so?'" Morgana sneered, doing a wonderful impression of Snape. "Yes, it is. I've just wasted-"

"Dumbledore interrupted, "Not wasted." 

Morgana's sneer grew. "Wasted," she repeated decidedly, " my time looking for a spell that, even if it worked, requires too much energy. You know what happened when Godric tried it: nearly every damn phoenix on the planet died and he died with them."

"Language," the headmaster rebuked. "We have children in the vicinity."

"They're out there and can't hear me," Morgana reminded, gesturing angrily with her hand to the door. "And no child would be in the forbidden section."

"You know as well as I do how the word 'forbidden' attracts teenage children, especially those with a knack at attracting trouble. Harry, you can remove your cloak now." Dumbledore smiled as Harry sheepishly took off the invisibility cloak, ignoring Morgana's gaping. "I won't ask what you're doing in the restricted zone of the library, as Remus warned me you would be trying your best to help your godfather."

"Godfather?" Morgana asked, eyes widening. "Sirius Black?"

"I believe that is what you are doing here, are you not?" Harry nodded, eyes downcast. "Now, don't act like I'll hit you, Harry. However, I am extremely disappointed that you felt it necessary to break a rule when all you had to do was ask for permission-"

"You'd _let_ me come in here?" Harry asked, voice high.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It's either give you permission or watch you sneak back in here. That was a close call with Professor Snape, was it not?" Harry blushed. "Now then, we'll just explain to Madam Price that you're studying for the upcoming test in… how are your potions marks?"

"Not good, sir."

"Alright, you're studying for your upcoming potions test and while that does not require entry to the forbidden section, the extra credit assignment that you'll be completing for potions does. And Harry," Dumbledore added, "I do expect you to do your work."

"Of course, headmaster!" Harry replied cheerfully.

Dumbledore nodded. "It's lunch time, is it not? Very near class time, if I might add. You're friends are undoubtedly worried about you and what your absence might mean. I suggest that you hurry to the Gryffindor tower where Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are currently examining everyone for knowledge on your whereabouts. On the way, you might consider inventing a reason for you disappearance."

Nodding, Harry started to the door. "Right, sir. And thank you, sir." But he stopped at the door. 

Dumbledore looked up, a perplexed expression on his face. "Did you want to tell me something, Harry?"

"I know what curse you're looking for," the nervous boy suddenly blurted out. Seeing the bewildered expressions on the adults, he drudged on. "I've been having this dream with the founders and a battle where Godric Gryffindor curses Salazar Slytherin. I always wake up before I hear what curse he uses but it's always the same. And then a few days ago, I looked through the books Professor Snape was looking at and found a curse that sounded exactly like the one in my dream except the title was missing so I don't know what it's called and-"

"Harry, slow down," Dumbledore commanded. Seeing Harry pause to take a breath, Dumbledore said, "Now, tell me about this dream."

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"As you can see, if you don't try to rush them or try to touch them, at this point they couldn't give a care for what you are," Charlie was explaining loudly over some loud, lazy roars. When he saw Harry rushing to join the class, he smiled. "Ah, Harry. Dumbledore told me you'd be late. Not to worry, mate; you've dealt with dragons before."

Harry didn't even have time to gape in wonder like he wanted to. Before him were a dozen or so pearly white dragons, stretched indolently head to tail across the front lawn of Hogwarts, the lawn having been made into a gigantic dragons' pit. In between the large creatures, the Gryffindor/Slytherin class was nearly frozen with fear and a mix of childish delight. Each of the dragon's were tied to a post though the metal was lax, and the dragons' mouths seemed to be sealed shut to prevent any… incidents from occurring.

"Wow, Charlie-I mean, Professor Weasley," Harry murmured respectfully.

Charlie smiled, leaning back on his heels. "Yea, they're beauties, aren't they, Harry? Can't imagine why every witch and wizard wouldn't want one." The loving expression on his face reminded Harry so abruptly of Hagrid that Harry snorted, bringing Charlie out of his daydream. "Well, go on, Harry. They won't bite. Just remember last week's lesson: slowly and silently. And no threatening movements."

Harry gulped but went forward, going as slow as he could without not moving at all. He passed through the magical fence, triggered only to stop the dragons from leaving. 

"You'll never reach 'em like that, Harry," Charlie called out, making Harry wince as three dragons lifted their heads to see what the noise was about. The class took the opportunity to scamper out of the danger zone, leaving Harry alone to entertain the dragons.

Each dragon was several dozen feet in length, their necks alone Harry's height. Their scales were so pale that they were almost translucent; tiny blue blood veins could even be made out. On each dragon's snout was a great horn, curved and elegant with another two on the dragon's forehead. Spear-like bones stuck out from the wingtips, used for fighting or so Charlie explained. The tails were twice as long as their necks, swishing back and forth like curious cats.

Gulping again--and wishing he could swallow his fear as easily--Harry cautiously made his way to the nearest dragon, a pretty female with glittering eyes changing colors with the wind. He went slowly, keeping his eyes locked on hers while thinking pleasant thoughts if only to avoid thinking about what would happen if the spell suddenly wore off and the dragon's mouth opened to snap him down. He was bite-sized compared to her regular meals but if she was hungry, or annoyed, or-

'Stop that!' he commanded his brain silently. It sulked but the dark, nasty thoughts of "what if?" vanished, leaving Harry with his Gryffindor courage, if nothing else.

"Now, class, let's all watch Harry. See if he listened to my lectures last week." Charlie's voice sounded far off even though Harry _knew_ that the professor was only a few yards away, ready to leap into action if help was needed.

"Yes, let's all watch Potter get eaten by a dragon," Malfoy commented snidely, drawing snickers from his Slytherin friends. Harry blanked that voice out, blanked out everything but the huge white dragon before him.

Charlie's words, the ones Harry could remember, swirled around in his mind, repeating themselves like a manta: Keep eye contact, don't show fear, don't be threatening, move slowly-

His thought pattern was disrupted when the female snorted, sending out sparks of vivid red flames.

"Woah, hey girl!" Charlie yelled, waving his hands to attract the dragon's attention but the female stood to her feet, ignoring the Dragon Keeper, and took the small step between her and Harry. Her head swirled down, snout sniffing Harry and prodding him lightly with a horn. The other dragons noted her interest and stood as well, starting to make their way over to Harry was well.

"Hey! Hey!" Sparks went into the air and one or two dragon heads turned to Charlie before looking back to Harry, more interested with the boy than with their familiar trainer.

"Harry? Harry, don't panic," Charlie was yelling, rushing over to the fifth year. "They're just trying to smell you. It's alright, don't move too fast and-"

"Hey, I'm alright!" Harry called out, surprised. Charlie froze. "Don't worry, professor, I'm not going to-" The rest of his words were drowned out by the creaking groan as the further dragons strained against their chains, trying to get closer to Harry.

"Prefects, get the class inside," Charlie barked out, getting ready to stun the dragons. If he attacked them (that's what they'd think he was doing) he'd lose their trust for months. It had taken forever for that one batch of dragons to let him come close to them after the Triwizard Tournament. Thinking desperately of another way to draw them off of Harry, Charlie's mind drew up a blank and he could only watch as more snouts sniffed and startled the young boy.

As for Harry, he'd gotten used to staring into the glittering, multi-colored eyes but was slightly unnerved when he noticed that none of the dragons had pupils. The feeling of being tossed like a salad whenever a new dragon tried to smell him was upsetting but tolerable and Harry stood rigid-still, waiting for the dragons to back off themselves.

The female took one last, long sniff, and withdrew her head. She snorted another light flame, burning a warning and the others drew back as well. She stared at Harry who found it increasingly difficult not to blink.

__

Then blink.

Surprised at the thought that suddenly forced itself into his brain, Harry blinked. And cringed, waiting for the dragon to attack. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes to look into the female's eyes, eyes that had settled into a glittering black color.

__

I don't go by 'female.'

Harry could've sworn he saw amusement reflected in those deep blacks. "Are you talking to me?" He didn't see the frozen expression of shock on the Dragon Keeper's face behind him. She nodded her snaky head, bending her neck low enough to stare Harry eye-to-eye. "Then, what's your name."

__

I don't have a human name. But I do not go by female.

"What do you want to be called, then?" Her head swung from side to side. "Don't know? Any ideas? Well, what do the other dragons call you?"

__

Romania, where I am from.

"Can I call you that?" She nodded. "Can I talk to the other dragons?"

__

If you wish. And if they feel like talking to a mortal. But I have talked to you, so they will talk to you.

"Harry," Charlie's dry call drew Harry's attention back to the frantically waving teacher and he looked apologetically to Romania who didn't notice. She'd gone back to sunbathing. Scrambling out of the dragons' pit, Harry was smiling widely, cares in the wind. "That was amazing!"

Charlie started to say something but choked and in the end just motioned for Harry to catch up with his friends. As the boy ran on, the Dragon Keeper turned to look at his beautiful dragons, trying to make sense of the matter. A dragon talking to a fifteen-year old boy? He could only shake his head in wonder and make a mental note to tell Dumbledore, a thought presently forgotten as Charlie's mind was swapped for that of a two-year old, watching the dragons rouse themselves up to play a game. And while he knew that he could never join them, a part of him wished he was a dragon, just for the fun of it.

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"Where were you? We save you a seat and you don't show up. When we went and asked Professor Delacour, she had no idea and said she'd only just saw you on your way passed her hallway, to the Gryffindor tower. So we ask everyone if they saw you and get no answers and then we had to go to class and you're late and Dumbledore obviously knew about it so he must have been talking to you and- Harry! Have you been having those dreams again?"

This was all a rush of almost unintelligible words coming from Hermione so fast that Harry couldn't answer; he could only give her a long look before bursting out with laughter. She looked hurt for a moment but then sighed and resigned herself to her lot in life.

Ron asked pretty much the same thing in fewer words: "What she's trying to say is 'Where were you and why?' but she takes awhile."

"I got to the classroom when I realized that I had left my books in the tower but on my way _there_, I met up with Professor Dumbledore. I've been having some dreams--only one, actually; it keeps replaying itself in my mind--and no, not _that_ kind of dream, Hermione. It didn't have anything to do with Voldemort." Here, Ron flinches. "So I mentioned it to Dumbledore and he asked me to tell it to him. It took me a long time to do so, but he told Charlie I'd be late so I'm not in trouble."

"That's it?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"That's it." He raised his hands in mock surrender at her cutting look. Ron drew her off and the three started down the hall. "Divination next. I heard she was planning to bring some guest in for fourth years and up."

"Lucky us," Ron muttered darkly. "They'll probably be some miserable erkling whose socks tell the weather."

"Erkling? Oh, be serious, Ron. Erklings like to eat children so not only does the Ministry monitor their population size, it makes sure they don't go near anyone under twenty and that includes us." Hermione stopped with a smile. "Well, I have arithmancy, so have fun in divination."

"She's just saying that to get at us," Ron confided as they marched up the steps to the top of the North Tower. "You should have heard her: 'Why don't you drop that class, Ron? Arithmancy is much better.' I bet she's lonely in that class with only other bookworms to talk with."

Their talking stopped when they reached the classroom. The windows had been open, clearing up the foggy and hot air. For once, the divination classroom was clearheaded and the reason why stood before them. On four legs.

"Harry, Ron, take your seats," Professor Trelawney's misty voice floated to them and they could see her sitting at her desk, an exceptionally brilliant smile on her face. The two boys sat down, speechless at the sight before them as was the rest of the class.

"Good afternoon, children," Trelawney started, standing up to face her class. "As I told you, I have invited a guest to enter the class and help teach you the deeper meanings of divination. May I introduce Firenze, centaur of the Forbidden Forest?"

"Young Harry Potter and I have already met," Firenze said, nodding his head in Harry's direction. His two front hooves pawed at the ground uneasily.

Trelawney smiled at Harry and announced, "The rest of the class period, Firenze has agreed to speak of divination, a subject centaurs are extremely familiar with. I will be at my desk if there are any arising problems."

"Wow. A centaur," Ron shook his head, stuck in his chair.

"Hello, Firenze," Harry greeted politely.

The centaur nodded again, bending his neck in a short bow. "Harry Potter. The forest has changed since your last visit. The stars foretell your return but do not give a time."

"I haven't been to the forest since my third year," Harry agreed, "but I've never really gone into it since my first year. Tell me, what does the brightness of Mars mean anything?"

Firenze's expression grew cold. "Mars symbolizes war and everything that is blood. It has steadily grown brighter since your introduction to the wizarding world, young Potter. Soon, it will be as bright as that of times gone past, when all the world was chaos."

Harry paled but couldn't ask anymore questions as the rest of the class got over their shyness and stumbled up to the cool centaur, asking questions and getting vague answers. It seemed that Firenze had only come because the headmaster requested the presence of several magical creatures; the centaurs were closest so they arrived first, sending Firenze as their representative since he'd been so friendly to humans before.

When class finally let out, Harry gave Firenze a formal farewell, thanking him again for his help in Harry's first year, and hurried to catch up with Ron. The walk to the Gryffindor Tower was quiet, both lost in their own thoughts.

"I wonder what other creatures are coming to Hogwarts," Ron finally broke the silence with his question. Harry shrugged. They reached the Fat Lady, giving the password ("Godric") and entered the common room of chaos.

Someone had left a plateful of Canary Creams on a table, an irresistible sight for some hungry first years who learned the hard way not to trust food on a first-sight basis only. Besides the plate was a bag of Ton Tongue Toffees and some of the Gryffindor's wands had been replaced with fake wands. So there were now half a dozen canaries flying about the place, another half dozen first years with their tongues multi-colored and falling out of their mouths because they were so heavy. Other years were fuming as their wands, when they tried to turn the first years back, promptly turned into rubber chickens or long metal sticks.

George and Fred were no where in sight but the prank had their signature all over it.

To make matters worse, above all the carnage a sign floated, brightly lit and eye-catching: **Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes--For Sale Now**. An order form was there as well, taunting the entire Gryffindor house.

"If it's any pleasure to you," Lee's voice informed the room, "the rest of your houses are all feeling the same." He grinned. "The twins have found a way into every single common room. I imagine that tomorrow will be a fine day."

He couldn't say no more as everyone joined in to mug him.

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Deep in the woods, seven creatures made their way towards the castle of Hogwarts riding on the backs of beasts. As the day broke, the seven crossed the front lawns, coming across the dragon pit and the female Romania pulled her head up, pupil-less eyes watching them pass. The other dragons bit at her chains, freeing her of the bonds, and rushed the magic gates, blowing the powerful locks down with an easy breath.

Romania stepped from the pit and followed the group, joining as an eighth member. When she got to the door, her body melted down to an albino female with completely red eyes that changed shades.

Breakfast had just started, really, when the small group walked in, frightening the wits out of everyone.

The first was an elf, tall and slender with a bow tossed around his back. His silver eyes went straight to Dumbledore, not caring about the rest of the room. The next was a vampire, obviously enough, with skin pale enough to be mistaken for dead. He seemed to float rather than walk, black eyes glowing intensely.

Besides the two was a dwarf and normal female-normal but for the fact that she looked weary and shaken with flecks of silver in her hair. The dwarf fingered his axe apprehensively as he stated about the room, looking like a miniature Hagrid with a thick black beard hiding his face. A veela was casting happy glances across the room, her charms toned down but affecting much of the male population.

A giant, standing over nine feet tall, loomed over everyone, looking partly disinterested in the proceedings but eyeing the food hungrily. He carried a huge hammer that was as tall as half the people in the Great Hall. And at his side was a small but powerful looking female, wearing tight leather armor and showing off toned muscles. A javelin was clutched in one hand and she fingered it nervously. Romania glanced at Harry but then kept her eyes locked on the headmaster.

If the eight of them weren't enough, the beasts they rode created as great a stir. The elf rode a pegasus, the winged horse neighing softly. The vampire rode a giant spider, the sight of which caused Ron to faint dead away. The dwarf had brought with him a griffin (and looked disgruntled at having rode it) and the woman held the halter to her hippogriff. The giant was riding none other than Fluffy, Hagrid's three-headed hellhound and the veela stepped off her unicorn. Romania rode nothing but then again, she was a dragon even if no one there knew it.

Firenze's hooves clattered into the hall behind the eight, joining them as well. Fawkes appeared from nowhere, landing beside Dumbledore.

Outside, someone pointed out with a scream as more creatures appeared. A Sphinx padded into the room, head held up royally. Several small and thin girls followed her, giggling all the way. One saw Romania and let out a screech and the whole lot of them became wood trees. Hedwig flew in, landing on Harry's arm and ignoring her owner's shocked stillness. The owl had been missing since the beginning of summer when Harry sent her away. Harry absently stroked her soft feathers, too busy watching the room with the rest of the student body to wonder at where she'd been.

A gigantic leopard, so black it sucked the light around it, stalked into the room after the bird, coming up to sit beside the sphinx. Fleur's fae, fairies, and pixies came as well, amazingly keeping order.

A short, shaggy creature walking on two cloven-hoofed feet came in next, glaring distrustfully at any student as it made its way over to the pegasus and unicorn.

"The merpeople and the kelpie wait outside, as they cannot leave the water," the elf finally spoke, his voice soft and musical. He bent his head in respect to Dumbledore. "But we are all here that will come here."

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Dumbledore started. "If you please give me a moment to excuse my students."

But the elf shook his head. "Will you not let them stay? The more of your people who hear of this, the better."

Dumbledore nodded and addressed the room. "I am sure many of you are wondering about what you are seeing, wondering exactly why you are seeing this. Due to many unfortunate incidents occurring, last summer's death not the least of them, I have asked many species of magical beings to come together and help in the fight against Voldemort."

The name drew a gasp from the students. Harry sat up straighter, eyes glued to the headmaster. Hedwig, unsettled with the movement, bit at his ear and flew off to perch beside Fawkes. The phoenix didn't look too impressed with her, ruffling his fiery feathers.

"And these gracious beings have agreed to come here and listen, at the very least, to the latest events." Dumbledore glanced so quickly at Harry that he almost didn't see it. "However, I am not the one to tell this story."

Harry paled and looked down. There was no way, no way the headmaster could ask him to retell last year's accident in front of so many uncaring people. But Dumbledore was now looking straight at him and there was no escape.

"If any student does not wish to remain, you may leave now." Dumbledore's tone of finality struck most students to the bone and nobody moved. "Very well. Harry, if you'd please come up here?"

Harry shuddered and gripped his chair tightly, bones locked. Hermione leaned over and whispered, "It's okay, Harry. Nothing can happen to you." Ron was still out of it, awakened from his faint but staring with frightened eyes at the acromantula beside the vampire. Harry got to his feet, making his way to the front table with weak legs.

"Professor, please don't make me do this," he whispered, pure fear in his eyes.

Dumbledore saddened but shook his head. "You must, Harry. If you cannot conquer you fear, then who will lead the battle against Voldemort?"

You, Harry wanted to say but he kept his mouth shut. It took a near minute for Harry to work up the nerve to open his mouth and even then his body was shaking so hard everyone could see it. Malfoy opened his mouth to say something but the griffin took a threatening stance and the boy shut his mouth.

Quietly, so quiet that his words almost went unheard, Harry spoke of last summer starting with the beginning of the year at the Quidditch World Cup. He told them of the Dark Mark in the sky, of the muggle torture and the Death Eaters reappearance. Most students knew of that so weren't surprised. The magical beings looked emotionless thought the fae were spreading out, repeating Harry's words in many different languages so all could understand. There were even some who went out to the lake to tell the story to the merpeople and their kelpie.

The year went on, Harry telling everything that happened, from Bagman's strange helpfulness to Dobby stealing gillyweed so Harry could win the first task. Then he got to the third task and again took a moment before he could speak again. Students leaned forward, eager to know exactly what happened and how Cedric was killed.

He told them of the anti-gravity mist, the sphinx and her puzzle, the fight against the blast-ended skewts; he told them of Fleur's scream and Viktor's actions under the Imperious Curse; he told them of the giant spider and how he and Cedric teamed up to fight it. When he got to them grabbing the cup together, he broke down and wouldn't speak for a moment.

Dumbledore took him aside and whispered some comforting words that felt to Harry like hollow phrases but he gathered enough courage to continue. When they heard of Wormtail, nobody understood the significance but the twins, Ron, and Hermione. And none of them had actually been told anything in-depth about the night's events. They listened just as shocked as the rest of them.

Harry took a deep breath and retold Voldemort's rebirth in a dull and defeated voice, no emotion whatsoever, with his eyes staring at some far off point. He told of the curses, how he fought off the Imperious Curse and dueled the Dark Lord; how their wands reacted. He briefly mentioned his parents but his voice cracked and he pushed on, ignoring any emotion that was fighting to show itself.

Cho was crying when she heard Cedric's last words. She wasn't the only one.

Finally, Harry finished, saying that he had been sent away from the wizarding world for his own protection, repeating that Voldemort had risen again, and then he made his way to his seat where he collapsed and buried his face in his hands.

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The next two days Harry spent avoiding every living person on the school grounds. His invisibility cloak was almost always in hand and the marauder's map was nothing if not a lifesaver. Seeing how upset the students were, Dumbledore had made a quick decision and announced that classes were canceled until further notice. Any student needing help to deal with this new information had only to ask a teacher- preferably not Snape- and they would be there as a sort of temporary guidance counselor.

Cho sniffed, dabbing at the always-present tears on her cheeks and Harry ducked into another hallway, avoiding her like the plague and hiding the bitterness on his face. Just as he expected, she wasn't alone five more seconds before her worried friends and just concerned students crowded about her, bringing about another wave of group sympathy and support for the extremely pretty girl. All the girls came together and just cried.

Harry, meanwhile, hadn't seen one ounce of support or concern from anyone other than Hermione and Ron. For all his effort at avoiding everyone, they were doing twice the work to avoid him. The Gryffindors sometimes asked how he was but other than that kept as far away as possible. Harry hadn't understood it until he heard from a Slytherin's own mouth the new rumor: get near Harry and risk the Dark Lord's wrath. For a long while, Harry had been angry but now he found he couldn't care. Let them fear him; let them turn on him despite what he'd done and what he'd been through. It happened before, in both his second and fourth years, and it'd happen again.

Even Hermione and Ron had taken the hint and left him to himself, now. Harry ran a hand through his hair, thanking them for listening to his pleas of solitude, and cursing them for listening to what he said but not hearing what he left unsaid. There was a saying Harry once hear: people listen to what you say, friends listen to what you mean, and best friends hear what you don't tell. If that was true, then Harry felt more alone than before.

To conquer that loneliness, Harry attacked his memory project with a new intensity. Everything else was secondary to getting Sirius freed. Remus had no idea what had happened at school and Harry had no wish to burden the werewolf who was already doing so much to help him.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry whipped around to see the albino woman who'd come in with the rest of the magical beings. Her fully-red eyes blinked at him and Harry shivered. "Yes, miss…"

"Romania," she supplied, and her eyes flickered to a dark silver color. "Like the country."

Seeing his shocked face, she went on to say, "I was called here to represent all dragonkind. I couldn't very well fit into the school in my true form."

"So you're a dragon?" Harry's eyes were wide. "C-can all dragons do that?"

"Change forms? No," she chuckled lightly, "only the really smart ones. And you have to be given permission. I don't think the Ministry of Magic would approve of giving all dragons this ability. Think about what would happen if one suddenly lost control of the charm and returned to their true forms. Not a very pretty picture."

"No, I guess not." Harry shook his head, trying to accept the fact. "So, can you still fly and breath fire or do you have to go back to being a dragon?"

"I'd have to return to my true form," she admitted and they started walking down the hall. "Only as myself could my body handle the intense heat of flames and this human form doesn't support air travel." Harry nodded, seeing the logic in that. "I have been asked to find you and bring you down here, if you'll come. It's one of these doors-yes, this is it."

"Come where? What's going on?"

Harry couldn't ask anymore as he was nearly shoved into a dark room. The door slammed shut behind him. Whirling, Harry started pounding on the door, trying to get out but it was locked. "Hey? Hey! Let me out!"

He got no answer. Turning slowly, Harry reached for his pocked but found it missing. A cold chill went through his body and a taste of panic was trying to work it way up his throat. He listened but heard only his own harsh breathing.

'Alright, just think about what's happened. Romania, I think, just pushed me into a locked room and took my wand. It's really dark in here. There's probably no other way out. What hall was I walking down? I can't remember. Think, Harry, think. This is no time to panic.'

He reached out a hand and felt around the door. Choosing one side, Harry followed the wall, trying to get a feel for what the room was.

'It's cold. I wish I had a fire. Then I could get warm and see. What was that!?"

He didn't realize that last part had been spoken aloud until his voice returned back to him, echoing and effectively covering up whatever noise he thought he heard. Harry swallowed a whimper. Having just retold last summer's story had done wonders to the destruction of Harry's sense of security. When he'd gotten to the Dursleys, he couldn't sleep for the first week or so, jumping at every sound. Now he'd been reduced back to that state of fear.

'What am I doing? I'm at Hogwarts. Nothing can hurt me here…'

He winced at the thought because another one followed that all too quickly. 'Just like nothing could hurt you during the Tournament; just like Dumbledore can't be fooled by no one; just like-'

"Shut up!"

"Temper, temper, Mr. Potter," a silky voice chided. "Yelling at yourself won't stop the voices. Only the tortured screams of others can drown out your own self conscious."

"W-who's there?" Harry asked, backing into the wall with shaky legs. "I-I'm armed so don't try anything." His voice was shaking as bad as hid hands. "I swear, I-I'm not afraid-"

"Lies can't hide your fear, Mr. Potter," the voice countered. "Ah, such cowardice in a Gryffindor. Make this job as rewarding as my Lord's own gifts."

Harry whimpered and fell to the floor, curling up and trying to hide. The voice whispered "_lumos_" and he couldn't hide anymore.

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"Ronald? Have you seen Harry?"

"No, Professor McGonagall, not since this morning."

"Well, do try and keep better track of your friend. I've been running around all morning trying to find him. Ask Hermione if she's seen him and everyone else for that matter. If anyone sees him again, tell him the headmaster needs to see him, that it's urgent, and that it'd be best for his own sake to please hurry. He's keeping everyone waiting."

"Professor," a timid looking Ravenclaw said as Ron started off, "I saw him just awhile ago."

McGonagall rolled her eyes and let out a relieved sigh. "Very good. Where is he?"

The Ravenclaw shrugged. "He was talking with that really white lady, the one with red eyes. They started walking down the hall that goes to Professor Croaker's office."

"Ah, that boy gets into more trouble than he's worth. Thank you but you better get to class." The girl nodded and headed away as McGonagall muttered, "Hanging out with the dragon? Well, Charlie did say the dragon started talking to Harry, likely as _that_ is. They've probably already reached the dungeons by now…"

She hurried off towards the dungeons, glaring at the cobwebs that dare entangle themselves in her way. Reaching the large potions class room, she opened the door and walked in, interrupting the meeting going on:

"You say He's returned and I'll admit, there's many signs pointing to that. But there've been such signs for the past decade. We can't jump at every toad that croaks, as the saying goes," said the girl werewolf, stroking a feather her hippogriff had given her. "There have been no callings from Him, at least none extended to us wolves, since last summer when you say He was reborn."

"That may be, but Ah doubt young Potter be lying, miss. Those ain't lies ye be telling folks, 'specially not about the one who killed yer parents. I agree with that old man and say ye've got tha dwarves behind ya." The dwarf concreted this alliance by slapping at his armored chest, leaving a ringing sound in the class.

The elf was about to speak but stopped as McGonagall entered the room. Dumbledore motioned for her to sit but stopped and asked, "You haven't found Harry?"

"No, but a Ravenclaw told me he was just seen walking this was with the dragon."

"That is a lie," the dragon stood up, red eyes turning a shade brighter. "I have been here the entire time."

"The student must have been mistaken," Dumbledore stated quickly. "Alas, but we'll continue this discussion without young Potter's voice. Let's carry on."

"That would be a mistake," the vampire suddenly spoke from his corner. He licked at his fangs, dark hair falling like a shadow over his pale face. "I can sense it… fear, hurt, all the things that attracts the hunter."

"What?" McGonagall bellowed but was drowned out when Dumbledore sprang to his feet with the same question on his face.

The vampire nodded fervently as all eyes turned to watch him. He smiled wickedly, dark eyes gleaming with the ageless hunger. "Yesss. So very tasty, these young emotions. Full, but only echoes of what he'd truly taste like." His smiled widened at their disbelief. "Very rich blood, I'd imagine-"

"Where is he?" Dumbledore asked earnestly.

"Gone," came the answer from a different direction. Firenze shook his head in apology. "Too late are we to save him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has taken him again, for what purpose only the stars can tell."

The dragon hissed. "Dishonorable. My image is not one to be so corrupted." And there was a promise of vivid red flames behind her eyes.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six 

Harry woke slowly, testing his various body parts to see that they were all there and very functional; he hadn't been hurt in any way. He opened his eyes just as slowly, blinking at the weird blurriness until he realized that his glasses were gone. He was lying in a bed, very thick and comfy blankets thrown here and there, tangling up his legs and arms. Harry struggled a moment but managed to kick the thick blankets off and started to stand.

The room was completely dark so it wouldn't have mattered whether he had he glasses. As he stood, Harry felt his left arm get jerked back, tied to the bed post by some soft rope, something like silk. "What?" he murmured, trying to untie the knot but it remained stuck fast. Harry sat back onto the bed, taking on the task of freeing himself.

It soon became apparent that the knot was too tight to untie or else it was magical; Harry laid back onto the bed with a sigh. His mind began to wander, thinking back on to how he got to this situation.

Romania, if that was her, had shut him up in a room with a robed Death Eater. The Death Eater must have knocked him unconscious because Harry couldn't remember what happened next. Between the time he was knocked out and he woke up was a dark stain on his memory.

It wasn't much longer before some light shuffling attracted Harry's attention. In the dark silence, ever noise seemed to be magnified a hundred fold. "H-hello? Is someone there?"

A startled squeak made the hair on the back of his neck rise. "Hey! Who are you? Where am I?"

"You-you is in the Master's house," a high-pitched voice answered, trembling slightly. Harry drew back with a gasp as a tiny flame started glowing, illuminating a small house elf's face. In the light, she looked positively dreadfully, so much so that Harry threw himself back, slamming against the bed's headboard. Immediately, the light went out.

"I-I is sorry," the house elf cried and Harry could hear her slapping herself. "I just thinking Harry Potter was light. Bad Missy, bad, bad-"

"No, wait. You just startled me. You didn't do anything bad, Missy," Harry's voice was pleading and the elf stopped hitting herself. She sniffed loudly in the dark, the sound slightly muffled from where she had fallen under the blankets.

"Harry Potter not mad?"

"No!" Harry replied passionately. He leaned over the bed, trying to locate the small elf in the dark.

She sniffed again. "Harry Potter want light?"

"Yes, if you can." The blankets rustled as the elf crawled from beneath them. "Just don't hold them so close to your face, alright?"

Missy tentatively lit another fire, holding it far from her face so it didn't cast such evil shadows on her. Harry squinted, trying to see her clearly when she flicked a hand and returned his missing glasses, cleaned and intact. "Uh, thanks."

"Master says Missy need to help Harry Potter," Missy replied proudly, wiping at the tear stains on her face. The blue fire she lit started floating in the air, growing brighter to that the room came into sight. It was empty but for the dark ebony bed Harry was tied to. "Missy Master's best house elf. Missy says it is an honor to help Harry Potter. Missy do what Master says."

"Oh really?" Harry asked, an idea forming in his mind. Missy nodded enthusiastically. "Well, could you untie me?"

Missy frowned. "Master says Missy do everything Harry Potter want… but," and Harry's heart plummeted, "Master says Missy not do everything. Missy can't do some things." She moaned and clutched her head. "Missy is confused."

"So you can't untie me?" Missy shook her head, still moaning. "I guess you can't go and tell someone I'm here, can't take a message for me, can you?"

"Master says Missy can't talk to anyone, no. Can't leave Harry Potter alone, no, no. Can't let Harry Potter go." She fidgeted under Harry gaze, picking at her clothes: an old bed cloth tied around her, toga-style.

"Do you have to watch men when I'm asleep, too?" When Missy shook her head, Harry felt a bit of hope re-lit itself within him.

"No, Missy must punish herself for not doing Missy's job when Harry Potter sleeping. Master makes Missy watch Harry Potter but Missy has many much to do sir. Master say Missy work hard when Harry Potter sleeping, do much work and Missy can't sleep-"

"Who is your master?" Harry interrupted suddenly, the question making him feel sick. He was in a Death Eater's house, to be sure, but it certainly couldn't be-

"Why, Missy's Master is the best Master. Missy is very grateful, yes she is. Missy knows Dobby is a bad house elf, leaving Master. Missy hears Dobby getting _paid_, he is an evil house elf, leaving Master and-"

"Lucius Malfoy?" Harry groaned. "I can't believe this. I'm stuck in the Malfoy house."

"Harry Potter is in the Malfoy Mansion," Missy agreed with a nod.

Harry let a minute of self-pity go by before going back to his escape plan. "So you can't deliver a message to other wizards?" She shook her head. "How about another house elf?"

Missy thought about this and nodded. "Missy can go talk to house elf. Missy talk many much times to other house elves."

"Can you go to Hogwarts and deliver a message to Dobby?" Harry asked excitedly.

Missy sniffed. "Missy no want to talk to Dobby. Dobby is a bad elf. He leaves Master and-"

"Please? I need you to do this." The words sealed the deal and Missy, after a moment's hesitation, nodded her agreement. "Great! You can go right now-"

"Missy can't leave Harry Potter alone. Master says no. Missy can't leave Master's house until Friday," Missy protested, backing away.

"And today's Monday." Harry groaned and flung himself back onto the bed. "I guess I can survive a week, it's not too long."

"A week can be very long, Mister Potter, if you know how to make it so," a dry, raspy voice sounded from a corner of the room. Missy gave a squeak and disappeared, her small fire going with her. It wasn't until Voldemort summoned a lit torch, the shadows treating his ghastly face as bad as they did Missy, that Harry believed the wizard was actually standing there. The pain he'd associated with Voldemort must have vanished along with the wizard's rebirth, as Voldemort passed Lily's protections, because Harry didn't feel even the slightest twinge from his scar.

"Voldemort," Harry hissed. The Dark Lord looked down with an emotionless glare, as if Harry was too beneath him for such displays. Behind him, dark robed wizards flushed in, pointing their wands at Harry like they really expected him to suddenly gain enough strength to attack their leader.

"Potter, we meet again. I apologize for the dishonorable way with which my servants stole you out of your school, but I did say 'by any means necessary.'" Harry scowled darkly, glaring at the ground in an attempt to keep from looking into Voldemort's eyes. Voldemort let a moment pass in silence, wearing away at Harry's defenses until the boy was shivering in fear. He leaned over and, with a long, pale finger, tilted Harry's chin up until the bright green eyes stared into his own. "You do know that all resistance is futile?"

"And how would I know that?" Harry snarled in reply, straining against his bonds, trying to fight against the insane terror waiting to throw him into a panic. Being near the wizard, whose powers were now fully recharged, was like staring into pure blackness, hearing the noise of creatures coming to get you, and being frozen stiff.

Voldemort seemed to shrug. "If you really thought about it, I'm sure you could come up with the answer by yourself. But," and his dark eyes seemed to glint with hate, "I'd prefer it if I was here the moment you realized the truth, just to see that last bit of spirit within you broken. You've destroyed me, boy. Destroyed plans, countless plans that took centuries to think up and to execute. You have single-handily destroyed the most powerful of all the dark wizards. Do you know what that means?"

Wordlessly, Harry shook his head, a defiant frown sticking grimly to his face, forehead covered in a sleek sheet of sweat.

The corners of Voldemort's lips drew up in a grinning, skull-like showing of sharpened teeth. "It means you have the potential—have already shown the potential—to be the greatest Dark Lord in history."

"What makes you think I'd go that way?" Harry snorted. "Why would I join up with you, when you killed my parents?"

"What makes you think I killed you parents, young Potter?" Voldemort countered smoothly. At Harry's blatant look of disbelief, Voldemort pulled out his wand and waved his hand around a few times, watching the smooth motions with an appreciative eye. "It is true that this wand did perform the killing curse on your parents, but that in itself proves nothing. My wand has been used by many of my followers, a special privilege."

"Wormtail, step forward," Voldemort commanded. Harry glared at the mousy man, feeling that endless anger against him against the man who betrayed his parents and who caused so many people so much pain. Sirius wouldn't be so tormented if Wormtail hadn't turned against his best friends; Voldemort wouldn't have risen again if Wormtail hadn't done all he had. Vaguely, Harry wondered if he hated Wormtail.

Wormtail was sweating, looking extremely pathetic and frightened. Harry felt absolutely no pity for the man.

"Now, tell Harry who used this wand to kill his parents," Voldemort was saying as calmly as though he'd asked Wormtail the time.

"What?" Harry's whispered question went ignored as Wormtail started shuddering.

Voldemort looked annoyed. "_Verith_," he muttered. A coil of black turned from his wand, encircling his target by the neck. Wormtail choked, bringing his hands to his throat and falling to his knees. "Now, Wormtail, tell the boy."

Wormtail's mouth moved soundlessly, his fellow Death Eaters watching him carelessly until his finally choked out, "M-me, mast-"

Voldemort kicked Wormtail squarely in the gut, sending the robed man flying across the room. Then he turned his blood red eyes to Harry and stated, "A simple truth spell. Not as effective as the potion, I admit, especially since extended use of the spell causes excessive damage to both the brain and body. But it accomplishes its use."

Harry stared in horror, soft choking sounds coming from his throat as Wormtail's body shuddered again. Two Death Eaters moved forward at Voldemort's wave, lifting the unconscious body and gracelessly carrying it out of the room. Harry paled at the sticky mess left behind, already stinking up the room. He whimpered and tried to move away from the dark robed wizards, pressing himself up against the bed's frame. The dozens of nightmares that had haunted his sleep for years on end had him shaking in fear, Cedric's death having shattered Harry's bravery and the presence of Voldemort doing him no good.

'I'm only fifteen,' the thought repeated over and over in his mind. 'I don't need this. I don't want this. I just want to go home, go back to school. I wish Sirius was here.'

Voldemort waved his hand dismissively and three Death Eaters advanced on Harry. As one, they raised their wands and their voices rumbled: "_Crucio!_"

"If you were to die this moment, Potter, who would mourn you?" Harry could hardly hear Voldemort's softly voiced words over the sound of his own screams. "The entire wizarding world, of course. But that wouldn't be the true mourning, only the mourning of a fallen icon, a fallen hero too far gone in legends to be truly seen as another human. They would mourn you as one who is respected, feared, awed, and left totally alone." He motioned for the Death Eaters to back down.

Harry didn't reply to this but a bitter taste filled his mouth, as bitter as the rusty blood flowing from his pierced lip.

Voldemort waved a hand, conjuring up a strict chair to sit in and then he stared, blood-red eyes boring into Harry. "I once told you how similar we are. You agree? Orphans both. I told you before, my 'family' history. Shall we now look at yours?"

Harry shivered but still said nothing. 

"A mother and father, dead from fighting too hard. Your father was a powerful, powerful wizard, I admit. I told him many times, offering him positions as my right hand, as my equal. He refused of course. Being powerful is not the same as being intelligent. Your mother, mudblood she was, also had enough magic behind her to be a worthy opponent. But not smart enough to accept me, thought I offered her revenge against a sister that tortured her, a world that she was sent to each summer. They were too good for their own good."

Biting his tongue, Harry winced.

"I suppose you know that she didn't have to die, but she did, preferring death with her husband than life with her son-"

"Liar!" Harry hissed, finally being drawn into the conversation. "You would've killed me."

"Is that what you think?" the Dark Lord asked. "It may have become my goal sometime during the fourteen years spent as something less than a ghost but I had no intention of killing you as a child. Claiming you, yes." His eyes flashed with anger. "But your mother killed herself trying to protect you. Foolish woman." Harry swallowed his tongue but started to scream again as the Death Eaters racked his body with pain again. Voldemort let a minute pass before calling them off, leaving Harry off-balanced and vulnerable.

"After their death, you are sent by that fool Dumbledore to a house of muggles who have nothing better to do than beat you. At the same time, your legal guardian is sent to Azkaban to suffer thirteen years of misery for a crime he did not commit. The werewolf nearly commits suicide before selling everything he owns, disowning his family and the inheritance that comes with it, and sets out to become a vagabond. The once fearsome four of Hogwarts, the Marauders, have fallen apart by death and betrayal.

"The next ten years of your life are spent hidden under a cupboard, feed little or no food, and periodically abused in an attempt to beat any magic out of you. Several times, your magic protects you: growing your hair back, shrinking clothes, freeing snakes. Then you get to Hogwarts, new to magic and the world within it, and you still manage to defeat me, two years in a row. Your third year, you free my servant to revive me and the next year, you live long enough to run from me. Before you even turn fifteen, you have managed to do what thousands of wizards and witches many times your age have never been able to do; defeat a dark wizard."

"You will make a powerful ally to whichever side you chose," Voldemort paused then added cruelly, "If you survive to fight in the battle."

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"All students, report to their common rooms _now!_ Any student caught wandering the halls will not only be assigned detention, but will lose their house fifty points." McGonagall paused to let this statement sink into the confused students' heads. "I will tolerate no horse-playing tonight, Weasleys, so do not tempt me." The twins opened their mouths to protest but McGonagall was already moving on to announce the message to the other classes. Her words were repeated a moment later as cheerful ghosts, happy to be given some task, floated through the air and walls, saying the same message almost word for word.

Dumbly, the Gryffindor sixth-years left their DADA class (leaving behind a suspicious-looking Croaker and the invoking charms he'd been teaching) and making their way to the Gryffindor tower. Halfway there, the Gryffindors met up with their youngers, all looking just as confused as they felt.

"I'm guessing none of you know what's going on?" Alicia muttered sarcastically as Fred gave the Fat Lady her password.

Dean shook his head. "But I'll give you three guesses on who it's about."

"Harry," the Gryffindors said as one then sighed.

"What happened?" Lee asked, and everyone looked to Hermione and Ron.

Ron raked his red hair with a puzzled look. "We have no idea. You know how he's gotten since…" Someone coughed in the uncomfortable silence and Ron shook his head. "Since you know. He wouldn't have anyone near him, wouldn't say a word. It was bloody hard enough just trying to get him to eat with the rest of us. He got to be a worse book worm than Hermione." Hermione nodded with a slight blush. "I'd swear it had something to do with, with Snuffles, but with what happened two days ago… who knows?"

"Who's Snuffles?" Parvati asked, settling into a chair before the common room's fire.

"His dog," Hermione answered quickly. "His aunt and uncle lost it and it got picked up by the pound. And you know how those muggles are; they told Harry to just leave it alone until they picked it up themselves."

"Oh." Lavender waited for something more but Hermione's tone was final. She shrugged. "Well, I can't just wait here for Harry to finish whatever he's doing; if anyone wants me, I'll be upstairs, consulting the stars." Her voice was so dreamy that several second years followed her up the stairs, fully believing in her ability to 'consult' the stars. Parvati joined her as well, and the other Gryffindors wandered off as the remaining fifth years fell into a moody silence. The Quidditch team's sixth years stayed behind as well, off in the corner discussing some strategy or other.

"You know, I agree with Lavender," Neville, of all people, broke the silence. He stared into the fire, not looking to either side. "Harry's always getting into trouble and we just let him. Well, not you two," he admitted quickly, glancing from the fire to look at Hermione and Ron, "but I haven't really helped Harry at all, not since our first year."

"Neville-"

"I'm not using that as an excuse," Neville interrupted Ron. "But, the thing is, if I'm going to help you, I don't want any secrets between us." Ron and Hermione paled, both thinking Neville has somehow found something out about Sirius. "So I better tell you…"

"Tell us what?" Hermione pressed gently, silently letting out a sigh of relief. The secret was still safe.

Neville stiffened, tiny goosebumps appearing on his arms. He glanced around. "Only if you promise not to tell anyone. All of you."

"Of course," Dean agreed hurriedly, Seamus nodding as well.

"You all know that, that I live with Gran, but you don't know why. Well," he gulped fearfully, losing the small glimmer of courage he thought he had, "it-it's because…b-because…"

"Neville?" Hermione stood up, a concerned look on her face. "Neville? Shake out of it!"

"It's-because-my-mum-and-dad-are-at-St.-Mungo's." Neville took a deep, shuddering breath, leaving the others to ponder his words. He'd spoken in such a fast breath that it took even Hermione a moment to sort out the syllables.

She gasped. "Neville! Oh, Neville! Are you alright? Oh, you must feel awful. Why didn't you tell us? This must have been killing you inside-"

"What's that now?" Ron's face was screwed up in concentration. "Something wrong?"

"'Course, you git. Neville just told us his parents are over at Mungo's." Fred cuffed his brother lightly. When he saw Neville's horrified expression, Fred raised his hands in defense. "We overheard you and, don't worry, we're not telling no one if you don't want us to."

"W-we?" Neville paled as George, Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Lee all tumbled into the small fifth-year circle, all wearing identical sorrowful expressions.

"I'm so sorry, Neville," Alicia sniffed with tears in her eyes. "I never even thought about why you didn't live with your parents."

"We didn't think at all," Katie echoed hollowly.

Neville tried to smile and ended up with a forced grin that didn't do anything to hide the pain in his eyes. "Y-you know, I thought it wouldn't bother me so much, since they've been gone for so long. But," his voice cracked and the three Chasers plus Hermione embraced him in a warm hug as the tears fell.

"What a week," Lee exhaled, exhaustion playing into his voice. He pulled over a chair and slumped into it, pulling Katie into his lap. "When I heard that Black was finally caught, I thought that all that stuff, like those attacks that had been going on, would stop and nothing would happen this year. But noooo."

Fred and George exchanged guilty looks and finally Hermione stood up, throwing her hands in the air. "Fine, you two. We'll tell them!"

"Tell us what?" Seamus straightened his back suddenly. "You guys don't know where Harry is, do you? Keeping it a secret, making us worry and confess our secrets. Bloody good friends you two are-"

"We _don't_ know where Harry is," Ron shouted. The teens looked at him with concerned expressions and he blushed to the roots. "We just might know what he's been up to."

"Up to?" Fred asked.

"Up to." Hermione frowned at everyone's grins. "Come on, this is serious. Now, what we're about to tell you is secret, just like what Neville said--except maybe more. No offense, Neville, but it's true." Neville nodded, wiping away his tears. "You've got to understand that what we're saying is true, no matter what else you heard or you'll hear. If you're surprised, just think how shocked Harry was when he found out. I mean-"

"Sirius Black is innocent, Harry found out in his third year, and ever since then, they've been keeping in touch." Ron rolled his eyes at the blank expressions on his fellow Gryffindor's faces. "Oh come on, it's not _that_ hard to believe-"

"Ron!" Hermione looked deflated.

Ron could only shrug. "Sorry, Hermione, but we were getting tired of listening to you build up the suspense."

"You do realize," Alicia started with a slow, soft voice, "that we're not going to rest until we've heard the whole story."

"This'll be good," Fred laughed, elbowing George in the gut. "We don't even know everything."

"You knew!" Angelina screeched. "And you didn't tell us! You're fellow _Quidditch_ players?" She playfully slammed a pillow against George.

The twins lifted their arms as a mini-pillow fight broke out. "Hey! Hey! Harry didn't tell _us,_ why should we have told you?"

"If this keeps up much longer, Harry will come back by himself, telling us how he defeated You-Know-Who," Lee joked. When Ron and Hermione shared a look, he said, "Come on, I'm just joking."

"What did you guys hear about our first year?" Hermione asked. "When we left and then came back? Dumbledore said that everyone knew, but he didn't say exactly what they knew."

"First year?" Dean scratched his head. "Isn't that the year when some bloke broke into the school and tried to steal something or other from the third floor?" Hermione nodded. "I heard that you guys saw the thief and stopped him by using whatever you did to defeat that troll in the bathroom. How'd you do that, anyhow?"

"That's not important," Hermione shoved on with a shudder. "Is that what you all heard?" They all nodded.

"More or less," Katie commented. "Nothing too spectacular, which is why we were all wondering why you got so many points. We finally figured it was because you got past that dog without getting your head chopped off."

"You knew about Fluffy?"

Fred scoffed at Ron's question. "_Everyone_ knew about Fluffy. When Dumbledore said the floor was off-limits, everyone got up there to see why. Anyone who knew the unlocking charm got into the dog's room sooner or later."

"Alright, you guys know some of the story, but it's too long so we'll just give you a watered down version." Ron took a deep breath. "At the beginning of the year, Harry overheard Snape threatening Quirrel about something. We got all suspicious and kept our ears open and soon found out that there was something going on involving a guy named Flamel, something called a Sorcerer's Stone, and the dead unicorns in the forest.

"It turns out that Flamel created the Sorcerer's Stone which gives unlimited gold and immortality to whoever owns it, and that the blood of a unicorn can give life to someone no matter how close to dying they are. You can imagine who's name was immediately brought to mind when we heard that bit of information. Up until the end of the year, we thought Snape was going to try and steal the Sorcerer's Stone to give to You-Know-Who. Harry had been with Hagrid when he got the stone to put in Hogwarts and since Hermione figured that Dumbledore was using Fluffy to guard something, we found out where the stone was.

"Right at the end of the year, Dumbledore got called away and it was like we knew that Snape was going to go for it. When we got to Fluffy's room, someone had already put it to sleep. There was a ton of other stuff guarding the stone, like plants, a giant chess game, and a potion riddle. I lasted up to the chess game, won it in fact, and Hermione solved the riddle but everything was set so that only Harry got to the end. I'd sacrificed myself in chess to win, so I was unconscious until Dumbledore came in and got me out of there. Hermione had come back to get me."

"I had to, really," Hermione explained with a self-righteous tone, mistaking the disbelief on their faces. "There was only enough of the potion for one person and someone had to go back and make sure Ron hadn't died. So anyway, Harry went up, prepared to fight Snape to the death, when he met up with none other than-"

"Quirrel!" Ron chirped happily. "See, the bugger was really working for You-Know-Who, and Snape had been trying to get him to confess. Harry fought him and Dumbledore got there in the end to save the day, end of year one."

Hermione went on to relate the next year's events, adding how the boys' had happily excluded her from going into the Chamber but Ron countered saying that she'd been too busy being petrified, at which point Hermione blushed and muttered how she'd forgotten about that. Ron reminded them that he hadn't been there for everything and was only telling them what he'd heard from Harry.

The next year was watered down and spoon-fed to the astonished teens as well, everything up to how Sirius looked like a dirty rascal who needed a bath more than he needed to be shot. Fourth year, Hermione reminded them gravely, they already knew about.

"He's always facing this stuff alone, see," Ron observed, realizing how great it felt to finally tell someone else about everything that had gone on. "Even if we start out with him, something or other knocks us out of the way. Makes a guy feel unwanted, if you know what I mean."

"So let's get this straight." Alicia took a deep breath and let it out almost angrily. "We got ourselves a resident superhero who's all but conquered You-Know-Who three times, and no one else knows about it?!"

"Harry didn't_ want_ anyone else to know," Hermione pointed out. "He doesn't like being famous, or getting pointed at when he walks by. The first ten years of his life, he was totally ignored and now he's the center of attention whenever he walks into a room. It's totally against everything he'd known."

"Well, this is a night I'll never forget," Katie stuck her head under Lee's chin, curling up on his lap. "I think he's great enough, playing Quidditch like he does. Never mind all that other stuff."

"Here, here," Fred agreed solemnly.

"Alright, so with everything going on--and everything that's happened--what do you think Harry's doing right now?"

"Harry's reasonably safe, as long as he's in Hogwarts," Angelina started, answering Dean's question. "So I don't think he's in any immediate danger. I haven't seen anyone wearing dark robes and sending off the Dark Mark anywhere, so Death Eaters are out of the question-"

Neville gave a little squeak. "Oh no!" he moaned. "I just remembered: when I was on the train, I heard Malfoy saying how his father was coming to Hogwarts. Someone asked if Malfoy had to go home and he sort of laughed and said that he wasn't the one going home. I didn't get to hear more because that's when they saw me." He looked miserable. "I didn't even think about it until now."

"Malfoy's dad is at Hogwarts?" Lee demanded, as serious as he'd ever been. Neville nodded and everyone went tense. "Well, scratch the idea of Harry being safe."

"But he'll _think_ he's safe," Hermione pointed out with a tremor of fear. "He won't be ready to defend himself if something happens-"

"Something already happened, Hermione," Ron interrupted, his tone dangerous. He stood up. "I'm going to find Malfoy. You guys go tell Dumbledore what we figured out."

"If you get caught, you'll get in a lot of trouble," Neville shook his head. "You're not going-"

Ron ignored him, already storming out the door. Hermione sighed and muttered, "Reason is lost on that boy," before rushing after him. "I've got to go with him. If we get stopped, I'll just say we're looking for McGonagall because some second year is missing. We're Prefects, anyway. And Ron's a Head Boy. That'll give us some protection."

As the portrait swung shut behind them, a silence fell on the remaining Gryffindors, unwitting members of the newest fellowship against Voldemort. George broke the silence with his low murmur: "Why do I feel like I've just agreed to a fight a didn't know was going on?"

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Sirius sneezed, bringing up a dirty sleeve to wipe his nose. He stared at it, disgusted, and hollered, "Hey, can I get a tissue?"

"Shut yer trap," one of the guards growled but the door to his cell opened slowly, the guard advancing cautiously and Sirius could only imagine how many wands were pointed at him right now. "Don't you move, or I swear-"

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius rolled his eyes. "You'll curse me until my eyes turn green and my insides roll up into little balls kids can play with. Hurry up, will you? I want that tissue."

The guard froze, turning the said tissue in his hands suspiciously. "What, you going to use it to perform some dark magic?"

"Yes," Sirius answered sarcastically. "I'm going to use that tissue to call up some insanely powerful demon who'll eat everyone in this room before freeing me, all without my wand and with nothing else but that piece of paper in your hands." His sarcasm was cut short by another sharp sneeze and Sirius sniffed. "You going to hurry?"

"But you said-"

"Come off it, Jim," another guard muttered. "He's just joking."

Sirius raised his hands in defeat. "If you're so worried, you can come over a pick it up after I'm done." He smirked. "I'm sure you can find something in there to use against me."

That did it. The guard gave Sirius one last glare before tossing the tissue on the floor and hurrying out of the room. Sirius waited until the locks on the door clicked into place before moving, wary of any overzealous wizard waiting for him to make a wrong move. He got to the tissue and picked it up with a disgusted grunt. "Eh. You dropped it in the water!" he yelled, shaking his fist at the locked door. "It's worthless now."

He swore he heard snickers from behind the door and settled back on the dry cot across the room, wringing the soggy paper as best he could without ripping it. And with a defeated sigh, he blew his nose.

"I guess I should be thankful," Sirius murmured to himself, too low for anyone else to hear. "No matter how bad _this_ gets, it's nothing compare to Azkaban. Now that was bad. These guys, at worst, can only make horribly bad jokes that they expect me to laugh at like I'm some sort of weird freak."

He rolled to his back, staring at the ceiling and the cracks in it. Talking to himself had become a defensive reflex from his days in Azkaban, where the only things keeping him sane were the thoughts of Harry, dreams of Wormtail's painful death, and the sound of his own voice droning on and on. Those were the only certain things in the dark and dreary cell.

Sirius gave a half chuckle at that thought. "They probably stuck me in here, trying to make it seem as bad as Azkaban. Nothing is as bad as Azkaban. I can still see the sun; I couldn't see that in Azkaban. I can hear other people; couldn't do that in Azkaban. If I'm really good, I can sometimes get a laugh out of one of the guards… _Dementors_ never laugh."

Sirius waited a moment to let his words sink in and abruptly changed the subject.

"I wonder Remus got back. Wonder what he thought when he saw the mess I left." He laughed. "Can't wait to see him again. First words'll probably be 'Sirius, you dog, you ruined my house!' Ahh… I wonder how Harry's doing."

He closed his eyes at that thought. "Oh, nononononono-"

"Shut up, you," one guard barked but Sirius barely heard him.

"What a mess, eh Sirius. Harry's going to go and do something bloody idiotic. Just for you. You're worthless, you know, getting caught again. Now you're godson, who you're supposed to be keeping out of trouble, will get in trouble trying to get you out of this."

He considered those words a moment. "Maybe he won't do anything-Ah, that's a thought. No, he's too stupid for his own good. Maybe he hasn't heard yet. Yea, that's a possibility. Harry's with those daft muggles, he'll never hear. And Remus'll get me out of here before he finds out."

"Hey!" Sirius yelled. "What's today?"

"September 19," someone answered absently, and Sirius' slightly-canine ears heard cards being shuffled. He perked up.

"Can I play?"

There was a stunned silence and then the same person answered, "Sure."

"Bill! Are you insane!"

"Letting him play? He'll do some voodoo on the cards, make 'em explode or something."

"If the Minister hears about this, he'll kill all of us!"

"Just chill, you guys," Bill chided as the door opened. Sirius blinked to see none other than Bill Weasley standing before him, long hair and all with a telling grin on his face. He winked and Sirius nearly fell over with shock. "Black won't do nothing; he hasn't done anything. Besides, didn't you read the paper? He's got a trial planned in a few weeks. If he's as innocent as he claims, he's not going no where."

The others looked shaky but Bill added, "Anyway, this place is rigged with anti-dark magic stuff, remember? If he does try anything, Aurors'll swamp this place before he takes another step."

The other four finally nodded and Bill motioned for Sirius to step forward, wrinkling his nose at the smell. Sirius grinned wickedly. "They didn't let me take a shower. Thought I'd trigger the shower to give off only cold water or something."

Bill rolled his eyes and muttered a cleaning spell, leaving Sirius with a refreshed, grateful feeling. "Alright, I deal. We're playing B.S. if you know what that is-"

"Course I do," Sirius snapped back good-naturedly. He rubbed his arms. "I'm not that old."

"Right. Oh yeah, these are your other guards. Jim, Hank, Merle, Felix, and me, Bill." Bill shuffled the cards expertly, passing out an equal amount to each of the wizards. Everyone settled onto the floor, shooting looks between themselves.

Hank, sitting next to Bill, went first. "One Ace."

"Two Twos," Merle slapped the cards down.

"One Three," Felix announced.

"One Four," Jim pulled his hand back from placing down his card.

"Bull shit," Sirius smirked as Jim went bright red. Seeing no one else move, Sirius reached his hand up to overturn the last card on the pile. Not a Four but a Nine. Grumbling, Jim picked up the pile, slipping the cards into his hand. Sirius grinned wolfishly and stated, "Two Fives."

The game went on, everyone getting more competitive, more daring. Sirius passed off three fours and jacks, something Jim yelled over when he got caught lying the next round around. Bill sneaked in extra cards between his hands and Hank didn't lie once but he picked up most of the liars. Felix and Merle whispered conspiracies out of the corner of their mouths, glancing at other player's hands whenever they could. And Sirius was an incurable sneak.

Bill was the first to get rid of all his cards, followed quickly by Felix and Hank. Merle dropped out next, and it was just Sirius and Jim battling head to head in a rather pointless two-on-two. Both knew exactly what the other had, and both knew exactly what the other didn't have.

"One King," Sirius passed the cards onto the growing deck. Jim started to sweat and Sirius grinned again. "Your turn."

"Cheating varmint," Jim muttered darkly, but his words weren't meant to be harsh, just an outlet of his nervousness. He sighed and reached out a hand. "One-"

"Bull shit!" Sirius howled with laughter as Jim huffed and scooped up all the cards. He twirled the last card in his fingers and laid it on the bare floor. "One Two. And I'm out."

"Sorry Jim, but you lose," Merle slapped the man on the back with a grin. "Next time, eh?"

Jim collected all the cards and actually smiled. "Yea, next time I'll beat you, Black."

Sirius laughed but they shook hands, both grinning madly. "Yea, you and what army?"

"We'll just play a game I know how to beat," Jim replied offhandedly. "Like Rummy. B.S. isn't a man's game-"

"Alright, fellas," Bill stood and stretched his back until the bones cracked. "Fun's over. The Minister's scheduled an appointment in about five minutes, so everyone get back to their posts. And Sirius," Bill glared mockingly, one hand on his hip and the other pointing to the dark chamber, "go to your room."

Sirius pouted but walked back to the cell willingly. Jim caught his back, muttering, "Good luck," before walking away. The phrase brightened his day, making Sirius feel prepared for whatever the Minister had to throw at him.

"Hey, Fudge's on his way up," someone called and the room tensed.

Fudge walked in, a bright smile--obviously fake--painted on his face. "Ah, good morning, good morning. I trust everything's good?"

"No complaint from me, sir," Bill answered gravely. "The prisoner's been polite and quiet. 'Cept for when he talks to himself."

"Talks to himself?" Fudge mused. "You've listened in, correct? There's much to learn about the Dark Lord's plans from this one."

"No, sir. He's been very quiet about it, sir, but from what I've heard, it's mostly just mumbles about Azkaban."

Fudge brightened. "So, he's reminded of Azkaban? Good work, Weasley. You and your family have done much that the wizarding community has to be thankful for. I imagine you're very proud of your younger brother, Percy, correct?"

Bill's tone was flat and emotionless when he answered, "For the most part, yes."

Fudge nodded and moved on, seeing that the formalities were over. Bill motioned and two wizards moved to accompany the Minister to the cell, where he peeped in to see Sirius laying down, eyes closed. "Is he asleep?"

"Let me see, sir." Jim looked in and nodded. "Looks to be, sir."

"Well, wake him up!" Fudge commanded irritably. "I haven't got all day, and there's important news to be told."

"Of course, sir." Jim opened the room, waiting for the others to get into a defensive position before stalking into the room. "Up, Black. Important people to see."

Sirius got up, blinked, and then grinned nastily at the startled Minister. "Fudge."

"Black." Fudge glared.

"No, I mean fudge," Sirius contradicted. "The food. You seem to have spilled some on your shirt."

Fudge bristled but went on, ignoring the taunt. "I've come to inform your, Black, that you seem to have been misinformed, along with half of the wizards and witches over the world. A recent article was published, stating plans for a trial to be held concerning your innocence. I'm afraid to say," he paused and smiled, " that is a lie."

Sirius frowned, standing up. "Excuse me?"

"As soon as the dementors are found," Fudge went on airily, "they'll perform their kiss and everything will be settled. The attacks will quit-"

"You know that I didn't do any of those attacks!" Sirius yelled loudly. "I was locked up in this damn room the entire time!"

"Of course you didn't," Fudge admitted slowly. "But the Ministry needed someone to blame." Sirius gaped. "And you were so conventionally caught. It was only natural, of course. And any attacks after your execution will be blamed on the followers you've picked up since your escape. Those followers will be picked up and arrested, as well, and the wizarding world will finally be cleansed of your kind-"

"M-my kind?" Sirius stuttered, voice unsteady under the tidal wave of information the Ministry was throwing in his face.

Fudge scowled. "The kind that doesn't listen to the rules, that flaunt their success in the face of other's failures. The kind that seem to get everything in the world, and instead of being happy with it, try to get more. You know that when you were an Auror, I was trying to be one as well?"

Sirius shook his head wordlessly. Fudge snorted angrily. "Of course not. You were too busy being popular to see those that struggled to accomplish what you did so easily. If you hadn't been exposed as a 'traitor', my name would have been just another in a pile of nobodies. I had been on a team trailing your friend Peter for almost a month when he faked his death and framed you to be taken down. It's only luck that I was the first Auror to arrive on the scene."

"If you know I'm innocent," Sirius started, mouthing each word slowly, "then why all this? Why did you keep me locked up in Azkaban all those years?"

"If it was found out that, as an Auror, I allowed an innocent man to be captured and thrown into Azkaban, my rule would be over. My judgement would be questioned and then ignored. As it is now, people are already beginning to see through me. Your death, and the capture of your 'followers' afterward, will cement my power. And by increasing the power of the Aurors, _my _Aurors, will keep everyone in line." Fudge waited for Sirius to drown in the information. "I just thought you should know."

He turned, cloak flaring, and for an instant, Sirius swore that the Minister was none other than Voldemort, swishing his black robes to leave his victims behind, powerless to stop the coming torture.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Torture, Harry decided as he struggled against the ropes biting into his arms and wrist, was absolutely disgusting. A real bitch, when it got down to it. Not only did it hurt, but there were also so many ways to torture a body.

Like now. His legs were both tied up to a pole that was then chained to the wall across from him, forcing his legs to constantly stretch out. It was so tight that his legs were pulled to their extreme limits, almost to the point where their sockets had been pulled out. His waist and back were tied to another pole, forcing him to "keep his back straight." And his arms were then tied to the same pole of his legs. He was constantly touching his toes, and with a straight back, it was unbelievable agony. Especially when some Death Eater or other would pounce right in, lean against his back, and casually tell tales of who they'd tortured that day, or what city they'd attacked, or something like, "When the Dark Lord's in power, blah blah blah blah."

Right now, it was Nott, chewing on an apple as he spoke of just how loud his victims screamed.

"She was a muggle, too," Nott went on, leaning against the pole and Harry ground his teeth in pain. "Never even though magic existed. Denied it right up to when she died. She had a beautiful daughter. Not at all like my Jessica though. I'd a kept her, just the same, and brought her up to be a servant or something. Muggles are good for things like that, you know. My Jessica would've loved a real servant, not just those scrawny house elves."

Nott hit Harry upside the head. "You listening, boy?"

"I'm listening, but not comprehending," Harry muttered darkly. "I think you're too stupid to be understood."

"What's that now?"

Harry didn't answer, which earned him another smack on the head but Nott went on, this time going on about how beautiful his Jessica was, a girl who was "much too good to even be seen by a muggle," now that he thought about it.

Eventually, the Death Eater went away, leaving Harry with his silence again. Missy sneaked in, dabbing a wet cloth over his face and giving him some water. His pants, torn to the knees, were dirty so she cleaned them. His shirt was in the same condition, sporting several deep tears and showing off the gashes in his skin. She fixed it all without a word.

"What today, Missy?" Harry asked, desperately hoping that time had gone by as quick as he thought it had.

"Today is Monday still. Very late. Missy have much work to be done, sir. Missy have to go." She bowed daintily and vanished.

"Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday," Harry repeated over and over again. He wondered what Dumbledore was doing, could practically see the old man barging down to the Malfoy Mansion with that look in his eyes, a thousand Aurors behind him. Yes, Dumbledore was coming, and there was nothing Voldemort could do to stop him. Then all this torture would stop, all his wounds would heal, and he'd go back to--

Harry's thought train faltered at that.

Back to Hogwarts, where the students avoided him like the plague, where everyone knew just how guilty he was and would probably say how much he deserved to be exactly where he was. Cho would probably take one look at him and tell him to go back to Voldemort.

The door creaked open, and in the dim light Harry might have sworn that it was Dumbledore! He was right, Dumbledore had rescued him! He'd be free from this place, this place where you thoughts were the only real company there was. Dumbledore-

"Potter, I hear that my servants have bored you," Voldemort whispered.

Harry stiffened as best as he could, a thousand hopes and fears dashed with that simple voice.

Nagini hissed in after her master, the door shutting behind them. His footsteps didn't make any noise because he was suddenly beside Harry, who nearly jumped in surprise as those cold, cold fingers snapped beside his face, calling to life some small flames.

Voldemort glanced at Harry and muttered something, untying the knots at Harry's wrists and removing the pole at his back. Before Harry could think, thought, a force was there, bending his back forward.

"Perhaps you do not fear them as well as you should.

He was pressed, lower and lower, until his chin scrapped the floor. Harry grunted, but wasn't in any true pain until that same force pressing him down began to pull up his arms. He bit back a scream.

"Don't you know that I am the power behind them? Or do you not fear me either?"

His arms started to twist and Harry couldn't stop the gasp of pain or the scream that ripped out his throat.

"We shall have to fix that."

Nagini slithered towards him, wrapping around his chest as soon as the force keeping him bent over lifted. Harry was gasping in pain as she tightened her coils, restricting his breathing.

Voldemort motioned and the door opened, several Death Eaters coming in. Each of them held their wands but one, who held a long knife, looking twice as threatening.

As they approached him, Harry let his mind wander. The Death Eaters, he'd realized, preferred to use curses like the Cruticus Curse, something that brought the most pain without getting any blood on themselves. They loved tortures that hurt the victim without any physical witness. They didn't like to get down and dirty, to have bruises, cuts, burns, and whatnot left on their victims when they were done. Death Eaters, or at least most of the, liked to torture their victims as quickly as possible before leaving.

There were certain exceptions; Lucius Malfoy liked to leave Harry with bruises and black eyes. The newest recruit, Marcus Flint, also took Harry torture to the extreme, most likely because he'd known Harry personally, had been beaten by him in almost every Quidditch game.

The Death Eaters with wands all pointed to him. "_Crucio!_"

----------------------------

Dumbledore sat at his desk, idly playing with the globe of gray on his desk. He'd transferred his memories into the Pensieve not a moment ago, and they were still there, swirling about. He sighed and leaned forward, losing himself in the dark whirlpool and then--

"I would like to thank you, all you, for sparing the time to come to this meeting." Dumbledore smiled in welcome to the different species represented in the large dungeon room. There were some beings that had left immediately after Harry's story but he was pleased to find that the majority of them had stayed and were settled in the underground chambers magically enlarged to fit everyone. "These are dark times that call us together, and I am sorry that only under such measures did we meet. I weighs heavily on my conscious, that I allowed many years to pass without deepening our friendship."

The elf murmured something softly beneath his breath, sitting cross-legged on his chair. The giant beside him chuckled but both fell silent. "I was just commenting that such a large school, with such students as I have seen, would have taken up anyone's time," the elf stated when the room looked to him.

Dumbledore smiled as other beings chuckled. "Far too true at times, I admit."

"Is there a point to this?" the Amazon asked sharply. "I was told to attend a meeting discussing the possible rebirth of the Dark One, and I haven't the time of day to waste on meaningless simple talk."

"Do not forget to who you speak," the pale girl beside her chided gently. To all eyes, she looked normal enough, but in her blood boiled the tainted blood of the werewolf. She bowed her head to Dumbledore in respect. "I am perhaps the most grateful, Dumbledore. Of the many wizards, only you have seen fit to provide one of my number with an education befitting any human."

"Remus was one of my best students," Dumbledore replied kindly. "I should thank him for attending my school. But, I digress; there is much to cover and we should begin at once. I would like to first welcome and introduce everyone: Tiamedes, of the elves; Moloch, of the vampires; Turgon of the dwarves; Doris of the Amazons; Gorath of the giants; Romania of the dragons; Aello of the werewolves; Firenze of the centaurs; Helena of the veelas; Porlock, the horse-guardian. Also, to all the species who have no name in the English tongue: the sphinx, griffin, unicorn, pegasus, hippogriff, Acromantula, and Nundu."

The last name sent a gasp through the room even as the huge, black leopard stretched and watched them with lazy, amused eyes. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice their apprehension as he motioned to the last three species, flying about the room. "And of course, our resident translators, the fay family: the fae, fairies, and pixies. I now turn the discussion over to Tiamedes."

"The first topic," the elf started smoothly, his voice disarming, "is any decision any of you have already come to. I was one of they who did return home during the two days Albus afforded us, and I return now to report that, though the elf monarchs are shocked that the Dark one has risen, it was not too deep a shock. The king had once revealed his doubt that the Dark One was forever defeated, and young Potter's words only bear witness to those doubts."

"My people have long sustained a custom to remain far from the ways of man. I myself was given the title of ambassador simply because only I have ever had any contact with the mortal within the last decade. We fought not in the last battle, nor in the war against the wizard Grindelwald. Even now, we question whether our participation is needed in this. My people are a solitary one, a weakness of ours but one that we hope to strengthen."

Tiamedes sat down and the werewolf girl stood up, beating both the dwarf and the vampire.

"I admitted, Albus," she began in a husky timbre, "that the only reason I was sent here is because the Elders thought it an unwise move to ignore your invitation. You are the only of the wizarding world who has treated any of our kind with any semblance of respect, taking in Remus and giving him an education befitting to any of the other children. Yet, even with this gratitude on our part, our Elders think it equally unwise to put our trust in your hands sorely on the basis of a teenager's words."

"Though Harry Potter has proven, from the accounts of many, to be wise beyond his years, and has also displayed a keen intelligence, he is still a young child. Even if we did ally with you, our kind would never be accepted among the ranks of light magic. There is no love lost between werewolves and wizards; our Elders do not want our young to lose their lives fighting a cause that gains them no respect, and only bitter humiliation."

"You speak tha truth, werewolf," the giant stirred. "Us giants aren't looked upon kin'ly. There 'r' still many 'ho think we're on You-Know-Who's side, 'specially since we _used_ ta be. It ain't goin'a be easy, but we made a mistake before that we ain't goin'a do again. 'Sides, our baby brothe' says this is tha side tha's right, and he's tha only one'a us that's got any edjacasion. I did'en have ta go home ta tell ya, Albus, that tha giants be workin' on yur side, this time." 

"Giants," the veela sniffed. "I am zurprised that you 'r' even allowed within walking diztance of 'ogwarts. You are nothing more than traitors--"

"This is not the time for such accusations," the elf interrupted. "We come together as allies--or at least, as friendly parties hoping to gain an alliance with one another. There will be no prejudices displayed here."

"Well put, majesty," Dumbledore murmured and the elf ducked his head. "I hadn't expected that a simple request would be responded with your authority."

"I meant what I said about my people not wishing to make such a grievous mistake, headmaster," the elf whispered back.

"Ye've alreasy decided?" the dwarf asked, speaking to the giant. "Then we be brothers, in spirit if not might."

The giant smiled at the small creature, not even tall enough to measure up to his waist. "Ye be my small brother, like Hagrid be my little brother. It's'a good friendship."

"You've come because 'Agrid is your 'alf brother? I 'ave come because I was ze closest, azide from my cousin," Helena purred, pointing her charms to the elf who only smiled apologetically as he was left unaffected. She pouted.

"Your cousin? Fleur Delacour?"

The veela nodded, twisting some golden strands of hair in her fingers. "I am of ze rhoyal family of ze veelas, in France."

"I come 'cause my brotha asked me ta," the giant announced beefily. He towered over everyone else, a good foot taller than even Hagrid. "Said there was important stuff goin' on tha we giants need ta know 'bout."

"I believe I speak for the rest of us when I say that we were chosen simple because we were either the closest or the more powerful of our kinds," the vampire cut in. "And that we've come because we haven't yet _made_ a decision."

"We can't waste our time," Doris agreed. 

"I present the second topic: the accuracy behind the rumors of Voldemort's return." The vampire sat back down, folding his arms and smiling wickedly.

"Ye dunot believe tha boy when 'e comes an' tells us what happened?" the dwarf bellowed, standing on his chair to glare at the vampire. "Tha Dark Lord be back, I tell ya. Soon, 'e'll be callin' ya to his service, like tha last time."

"And even if he hasn't returned, there are situations that require our immediate attention," the werewolf interrupted, smoothly stopping a fight. "In the past month, werewolf hunts have increased dramatically, as have vampire slayings. I have even heard news of the Ministry offering rewards--over a hundred Galleons! --for wolf hides."

"Our islands are being encroached upon," the Amazon added, twisting the bands on her hands in anger. "The pacts we made with the Ministry are now considered 'invalid,' for no better reason than the Minister's greed. He sees our forests only as profit, our warriors as nothing more than frivolous women.

"Dragons are in hiding," the albino shape shifter in the corner muttered softly but everyone heard her. "Others of the clouds are also flying higher to escape capture. Sphinxes, pegasi, even griffins no longer wish to be seen by wizard eyes." She blinked slowly, eyes peering out with trance-like hypnosis. "Magical beasts are blamed for attacks. And not all are strong enough to fight off the bounty hunters that come for their hides."

The small fae, stopping mid-translation, glowed brightly. Romania tipped her head to the side, listening and nodding. "The Small Ones also say that their games are interrupted more frequently now."

Dumbledore pulled away from his Pensieve with a sigh, letting the images roll away. Not long after that, Doris and Moloch had demanded that Harry be brought back before them to be questioned about his tale. Minerva had been asked to find him, but returned after a half hour, thinking that Romania had also been sent to find him and had already brought him into the dungeon.

And sometime, between all the discussing and arguing, the Nundu had slipped from the room as well. When that was discovered, almost all the magical beings had left, straightaway. Nundus were well known as being the most dangerous beasts in existence; in the last battles against Voldemort, he'd sent hordes of them out against villages defenseless against their death-carrying breath. 

The weaker beings said that they'd continue hiding, not planning on being around when Voldemort came to call, while the stronger ones warned that, should the Ministry take any more aggressive moves against them, a retaliation would begin.

"Headmaster?"

Albus opened his eyes to see Remus and Arabella, standing in his doorway. "Oh, forgive an old man for falling asleep, though it was really your fault for keeping me waiting for so long. Come in, come in."

"The back room, right?" Arabella asked, winking at him. Dumbledore smiled and nodded, both times looking more weary than he had in a long time. The "back room" was actually a secret meeting chamber located just beyond Dumbledore's office, the door to it hidden behind the old portrait of Professor Dippet.

Arabella walked over to the sleeping portrait and gently reached for the doorknob located just below the sleeping man's nose. Dippet twitched but kept sleeping as his picture swung open, revealing the room. It was hardly furnished, the only thing being an enormous round table and several chairs with each labeled.

"I think I have to agree with Sirius: this does remind me of Arthur and his meeting room," Arabella muttered.

Remus chuckled. "Of course, you'd know how that looked, wouldn't you?"

Arabella swatted him. "I'm not that old!"

"I asked you to come here to do me a favor," Dumbledore interrupted. "There are some places I need for you to check."

"Any reason why?" Remus asked politely.

"Yes, but I would prefer it if you didn't know of it until tonight, when the Order is called."

Arabella gasped. "You're calling us back? Has something happened?"

Sighing, Dumbledore rubbed his forehead. "Yes, to the point where the war may have begun."

"It has to do with Harry," Remus stated.

Dumbledore smiled tiredly. "When does it not? Please, just check this list of places and report back to this room later tonight, around midnight. Then, I will give up my secret." Remus and Arabella nodded, if somewhat confusedly, and left the room as Dumbledore added to himself. "And pray that Sirius doesn't try to kill me."

----------------------------

"My name is Hannah Abbot. I am the Hufflepuff Head Girl at Hogwarts."

"My name is-"

"Hannah, will you knock it off already? Everyone here gets it but you."

Her face going pink, Hannah turned to glare at her friend, the glare ruined when her pigtails swung around as well, swinging into her face. She brushed the blonde strands away and tried another glare but Ernie wasn't affected. If anything, he was grinning even wider, and the Hufflepuff in her couldn't help but smile back.

"Scratch that, maybe by repeating that 'I am a Head Girl' phrase over and over again, you'll get it into your mind to start acting like one." Ernie leaned back against the black-and-yellow pillow couches of the Hufflepuff common room. "But, then again, it is you that we're talking about. I don't think any amount of repeating could get it into that head of yours."

"Be glad that I'm a Hufflepuff, Macmillan," Hannah cut in roughly. "Loyal and all. If anyone else had to be your friend and put up with you, they'd have dropped you long ago." She smiled playfully, throwing a pillow at her friend's face to prove that she was just joking. ... 

"The way you two carry on sometimes give a girls a reason to wonder," Susan joked as she walked up from the basement dormitories. Girls to the right, boys to the left and all. The Hufflepuff common room was on the first floor, level with the ground outside its wide windows. The dormitories were underground holes, earthy and beautiful to the Hufflepuff eye, modeled after their animal mascot: the badger. 

Years ago, the Hufflepuffs had a tower like the Gryffindors but it had burned, along with every other house. The Gryffindors, outraged that such a thing could happen, demanded that their be built first and it was. The Slytherins had declined, choosing another spot in the castle as theirs, and the Ravenclaws had moved from their burned tower to a not-so-secret common room near the library. The Hufflepuffs, while not declining the offer for their tower to be rebuilt, hadn't been quite so adamant about it and had moved to an underground chamber, patient as always for their tower to be rebuilt. As a result, the matter was forgotten and the Hufflepuffs tower remained a pile of soot, but they liked their new rooms much better.

Susan looked around in surprise as she saw every Hufflepuff in the Common room. Shoving Justin out of a nearby couch, she asked, "Is there something going on that I don't know about?"

"Yea, it's not like I was sitting there or anything," Justin muttered, shoving back. A small battle ensued, ending with both Hufflepuffs sharing the seat. Justin continued his conversation with Eleanor and Owen, both looking tickled at the mini-fight, and Susan repeated her question.

Ernie shrugged. "Professor Sprout came in here, 'sprouting' some news about everyone having to say in the common room." He looked quite pleased at the joke.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Some people consider puns to be the most sophisticated form of humor," she informed him. "That sophistication is lost on you. Anyway," she continued, turning back to Susan, "after Sprout came in and left, the Fat Friar floated in to say the same thing. And a couple other ghosts, the ones partial to us Hufflepuffs at least."

"And what ghost wouldn't be?" Ernie stood up with the declaration. The second years looked to him with admiration while the others did so with amused toleration. "Hufflepuffs are the best! We're hard working-"

"Yea!" Some second years emphasized his words by leaping to their feet, punching the air with their fists.

"-loyal-"

"Yea!" More students joining in, grinning as pride swept the room like cabin fever.

"-and damn-well handsome!"

"Well, some of us, anyway," Justin threw in and everyone laughed, enjoying the feeling of unity that lasted even after the cheering died down and everyone again separated into their own groups of friends.

Ernie gave a bow, returning to his seat, a flushed expression on his tanned face. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy that," he warned Hannah, playfully swatting at one of her pigtails. "I saw you jumping and cheering just like the rest of them." Hannah tried to hide her grin and gave up with an exasperated sigh as she settled for swiping back at Ernie's leg. 

He jumped, stumbling into Laura, who fell against Brian and knocked Michael clear off his chair. A dominos effect soon followed, ever year collapsing into a heap, and those unlucky enough to have been knocked over pulling down to the floor those few who had managed to stay standing.

Hannah struggled under the mass of flaying limbs and muffled cries until she battled her way to the top, able to stand once more. "Hufflepuffs: loyal, hardworking, handsome...and unforgivably clumsy." She gave a whoop as someone (Ernie) grabbed her legs and pulled her back under.

"Oh my...Hufflepuffs! I demand order this instant!" Sprout's shrill voice echoed through the room once, stilling everything. Then, in a panicky rush, the students climbed to their feet, helping the stragglers up. As one, they faced down their red-faced Head, the Fat Friar smiling sympathetically beside her. 

"I will not tolerate such nonsense in my house!" she screamed. "What were you doing? Coition?"

That did it. Between the professor's red face, shrill voice, and absurd suggestions, the Hufflepuffs fell over in laughter so strong, not even Sprout's anger could survive in the face of it.

Hannah, gasping for breath, made her way to her Head. "It's nothing. Not as bad as it sees. Just Hufflepuff nature."

"Hufflepuff nature to suddenly fall over in a pile of bodies?" Sprout restated, aghast.

"Clumsiness," the Fat Friar corrected, "is what I think the girl was referring to."

"Alright, then, that's enough." Sprout clapped her hands for attention and her students fell in line. The smile that had been on her face vanished, as if she suddenly remembered a matter so serious that humor wasn't an emotion to be displaying. "Now, I'm sure many of you are wondering about the restrictions currently placed on yourselves. There are rumors--I repeat, unfounded rumors--that a student has gone missing.

"One guess to who that is," Brian, a sixth year, muttered softly. The students around him nodded solemnly.

"Since you see to have already guessed, I'll not deny it." Sprout sighed, seeming to lose her energy in that sad motion. "Harry Potter is the only Hogwarts student who remains unaccounted for. The headmaster is already dealing with this issue, so there will be no interference from my house." She stated these last words with a steely look in her eyes.

"But professor, unless I'm mistaken, the Gryffindors will be doing everything they can to help Harry." Hannah gulped under the hard look Sprout sent her way but held her ground.

"That's right," Justin stepped forward. The student beside him, certainly not a Hufflepuff that Hannah recognized, moved back, hiding in the crowd before he was noticed. "Gryffindors are brave and all, but we Hufflepuffs are loyal to the end, thou we haven't had a chance to prove it."

"Cedric did!" someone muttered, getting several painful nods. The Hufflepuff's death weighed heavily on everyone's mind, though not in a bad sense. They mourned him, but didn't obsess about it; nor did they blame anyone but You-Know-Who, a blame that had turned up a notch since Harry's testimony.

Justin gave a nod as if to say, 'My point exactly.' He looked around the room, purposely avoiding Sprout's gaze. "How about we take this opportunity to show our true colors; even if he's not in our house, Harry's shown as much loyalty as any Hufflepuff, so I vote for declaring him an honorary member of our house!"

"Here, here!" someone cheered.

Justin grinned wide, gathering more courage from the support. Since Sprout looked too astonished to take the initiative, Hannah stood up. After all, a person could only be declared a member of another house if every student in that house agreed, and that agreement was cemented by a figure of authority: either a professor or the year's Head Boy and Girl.

"Any opposed, say nay."

No one made a sound.

"Those in favor?"

The room irrupted in cheers so fierce, Sprout took an involuntary step back.

"Besides," Ernie shouted, "he's a student at out school. That's enough to help him if he needs help, in my book at least."

"Woah, there," Susan murmured. "That's a little too much change at one time. Talk like that includes Slytherins, remember, and there aren't too many who'd look kindly to that."

Few had heard Ernie, too busy watching Hannah as she formally completed the process of including Harry as a Hufflepuff House member. "Then I pronounce Harry Potter a Hufflepuff." A spark of canary yellow sparked and then completely surrounded her, many different shades appearing as one. The color filled the entire room, lighting everyone's amazed faces. 

Then, as quickly as it came, the yellows shot off like a bullet, going so fast that it might have been a snitch. It ran, trashing the halls with its bright color, and took the shape of a badger. The Hufflepuffs followed it with their eyes for the few seconds before the yellow color disappeared completely from view.

Sprout looked unpredictably proud, excusing herself from the room as tears strolled down her face. The Fat Friar looked serious for once, eyes still trailing after the yellow colors even as he left the room as well.

With an exhausted sigh, Hannah fell into her couch, a hand going up to unclip her hair and the blonde strings fell like a curtain.

Everyone else took a seat, brining their chairs around in a circle so that the room looked like a war council. "Alright, here's what we do: we need information on what the Gryffindors are doing because we don't want to copy them, per se, but we might be able to help."

"You're talking about a spy?" Kevin Whitby smiled widely at the suggestion. "I can do it. I sometimes hang out with Dennis Creevey, and everyone knows how those brothers are. Say the word 'Potter' and they'll tell all their secrets." 

Hannah nodded, still looking tired. "Very good. Now, we need a plan of action-"

"A plan of what now?"

"Of action! Like an outline of what we want to d, what we need to do. Is it more important to protected Harry from afar, or do we sic a Hufflepuff on him at all times? Are we his personal friends, or his unseen allies? Do we try to find him now, or wait for Dumbledore?" Her questions boomed out, one right after another, leaving her house breathless. The last question also put a great weight on the Hufflepuffs. "You have to realize that this isn't a game, this isn't something that we can do now and forget about later. We can't take back his membership now."

"Well, I don't like waiting for him to come back on his own, or waiting for some adult to find him while we just wait around," Ernie started, and several heads nodded in agreement. "But, seriously, we're only teens, wizards and witches in training."

"Point taken," Hannah conceded. She bit back a yawn. Ernie glanced at her, concerned.

"However," Susan shot back, "Harry's our age. If he can do all that he's done, then there has to be something we can do, like get our parents involved or collect information. We might be able to organize a strike team, and you never know what you can find out by keeping your ears open." More heads bobbed with her words.

"Point taken," Hannah repeated, smiling. "But I'd like to add that not all of us were up for a debate between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor when it came to being sorted." Susan blushed. "Let's leave the final heroics to the adults and those foolishly brave Gryffindors. But that idea of 'keeping our ears open' sounds like a winner. Those in favor?"

"Yea!"

"Opposed?" No one answered and Hannah smiled again. "Who's going to get our parents involved--any parents, as a matter of fact--, who's going to keep their ears open (spy) and who's going to do the research?" After each question, students raised their hands to volunteer, Hannah nodding her approval. The last question had some complaining about "Ravenclaws are the only people supposed to be in the library," but they volunteered anyway.

"About your other questions," Jessica Moon stood, looking slightly uncertain as the room swerved to stare at her, but her friends nodded encouragingly. "I don't think it's right to just help Harry without him knowing. If he's an honorary Hufflepuff, he should know of it and know that we're all his friends. Especially now. When," and she emphasized the word, "when he comes back, getting help from 'unseen allies' won't gain his trust at all."

"The magic that's used to bind him to our house tells him he's a Hufflepuff, so Harry'll know that he's a Hufflepuff, regardless. But that's a good point," Hannah commented as Jessica sat down. "In favor of becoming Harry's best friends when he gets back?"

An overwhelming cheer arose from the room. When she asked for those opposed, someone exclaimed, "There's no one left to oppose it!", drawing chuckles.

"Right then!" Hannah leaned over to pick up a bag of candy left near the fire. "I propose that we adjourn this meeting by having some sweets, unless this bag belongs to someone who doesn't want to share." She didn't wait for an objection to pop the candy in her mouth.

The room erupted in laughter as Hannah disappeared with a _pop_, leaving a disgruntled canary in her place. The _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_ order form, previously floating high above notice, lowered itself on cue, releasing a spark of fireworks in the room. More pops filled the room as the students unwittingly ate the candy, and no one noticed the aspiring Ravenclaw sneaking out after visiting his friend, mind awhirl with ideas and insights as well as a plan. If the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were up to the challenge of helping Harry, Ravenclaws weren't to be left behind.

----------------------------

"Psst. Sirius!"

Sirius shook his head, curling back up into the small piece of rag they called a blanket. Someone groaned.

"What do you want him for, again?"

"Quiet, Jim! The, uh, Minister! Yea, Minister Fudge wants to see him. He has something more to tell Sirius."

"Was-was all that true, Bill?" Jim asked, stuttering slightly. "About Sirius being innocent and all?"

Sirius' cell door swung open with a creak and Bill replied, "Yea, it's all true."

"But-"

"Just remember what you heard, alright? And tell everyone else, but try not to get in a fight with Fudge just yet. If he hears that you're starting trouble, he might just include you in that 'followers' category, and kill you off. And I don't want that to happen now. I think that you're a smart kid, smart enough to get through this."

"If that was true, then that means that You-Know-Who..."

Sirius squinted as harsh light invaded his cell. He could make out Bill and Jim in the doorway, Bill nodding his head slowly. "Fudge doesn't want to admit it. You heard that much. What you don't know is just how far he's gone to keep this all a secret. There have been a lot of promotions for anyone who shows that they're willing to support Fudge no matter what. That's how Percy got to be his personal assistant, but Percy's changed so I'm not worried."

Jim turned and spat. "Well, there goes my faith in leadership."

"Don't get all cynical," Bill laughed, slapping his friend's back. "We still got some good ones out there. Albus Dumbledore, for one."

"Yea, and that kid. Harry Potter. Defeated Voldemort once, defeat him again, you know what I'm saying?" Jim joked but Bill's face clouded over.

"Just try and remember that Harry's still a kid," he whispered. "He's friends with my youngest brother, even been over to the house once, and I can swear that he's a good kid, but even the best of them have mistakes. I'd hate to be there if he falls, with all the trust everyone puts in him. How'd you like it if everyone expected you to defeat You-Know-Who when you're only fifteen?"

"But he's done it before-"

"My brother Charlie works with dragons. He says that even if one day, a dragon's all nice to you, it doesn't mean that the next day it'll still be nice. Heck, most likely, , it'll bite your head off when you come out, thinking it's tame. That's why dragon handlers are always in danger because even if they do it once, it doesn't mean that they'll do it again. Do you get when I'm saying?"

Jim put a hand in his pocket and nodded.

"Good, then let's get going. It's already late, almost dark."

"You'll get him back, right?" Jim asked and Bill nodded. "Alright. Seeing as it's an official Ministry order," and Jim winked, "I can let you go without calling the Aurors on you."

"Thanks Jim." Bill shook hands.

"Thank you, Bill. It's been great having you for a friend, and all. A real eye-opener."

"Sometimes, thought, you wish that you'd kept your eyes shut, huh?"

Both of them jumped when Sirius spoke. "Jeez, I thought you were still asleep!" Bill breathed, putting a hand to his heart.

Sirius jumped off his bed energetically. "With you two hacking like old maids? Who can sleep in that?" He grinned. "So, off to see that old fart Fudge, eh? Give me a minute to think of something witty to say."

Bill grinned back, but he looked slightly uneasy. "Come on, Sirius. We've got a meeting to get to." And they walked to the apparating zone and disappeared.

----------------------------

"So, professor, what's happening?" Draco twirled his wand in his fingers lazily, falling into the soft comfort of the Slytherin common room couches. "I'm a Head Boy, yet I've not an idea of what's going on."

Snape grinned nastily, making Draco--and everyone else who sensed their Head's mood change--snap to attention. "I'm the Slytherin Head, a teacher at this school, and not even I have the full story. What does that tell you?"

Draco shrugged, muttering, "Just asking," as he curled his legs into the deep green sofas. 

While the Slytherin rooms weren't cold--thanks to the excessive silver-green blankets and the fire--the dungeons they were in weren't exactly as hot as a summer morning. The stone floor was frigid, more effective than muggle coffee at waking a person, and the walls were no better. To make up for the chill (or to cover it up, Draco thought angrily) the Slytherins were rumored to have the largest fire place, its fire crackling all the daylong. Expensive and lush carpets covered the floors, thick furs hung on the walls, and banners hung from the ceiling, declaring Slytherin pride while they caught escaping heat. 

In the corners, near the fireplace, was a little café-type setup; it was where Goyle and Crabbe dumped their food stash so that they'd never go hungry. As a result, none of the Slytherins did because of their private motto, "What is for one, is for all." Little tables with padded cushions on the chairs and black fur table cloths over their stone surfaces were being sat at by Slytherins studying, doing work, discussing, playing chess, or just pigging out. Girls walked down the hall to their dorms to grab the latest witch magazines and guys planned strategies against the other houses.

The overall atmosphere was cool, quiet, and calm, but the ingredients for an explosion were there in the way the Slytherins angrily told of a Gryffindor's latest display of retardation, in the way they slyly revealed a Hufflepuff's weakness, or warned the younger years of the Ravenclaws' studious manner hiding their extreme intelligence.

"Listen up," Snape started in his quietly commanding voice. Everyone paused to pay heed. "The headmaster is keeping quiet about this, but it seems that Potter has gone missing." He sneered, face screwed up in disgust, an emotion mirrored on many of his students' faces. "_Who was supposed to watch him_?"

Someone raised her hand and Snape descended with vulture-like violence. "What is your excuse, Miss Parkinson?"

She squirmed under his gaze, trying her best to act careless. "He was approached by the dragon, and I was given the impression that she was harmless, at least where Potter's safety was concerned. Besides, they were heading to the dungeons where the headmaster was having his meeting."

"Draco," Draco snapped his head up, an alarmed feeling rising in his throat, "your father came, didn't he."

Draco gulped and nodded, giving cause for Snape to shake his head and moan. "Foolish boy, why did you not tell me?"

"I-I thought he was going to visit the headmaster," Draco stuttered.

"It's now obvious that Voldemort has again managed to pull Potter from Hogwarts," Snape addressed the room, some Slytherins glaring at Draco and other giving him sly smiles. "So the headmaster has ordered that all students remain in their common rooms."

His black eyes glittered dangerously. "As you know, we _cannot_ get involved now. Voldemort will know if any students try to help Potter, and if Slytherins were to be seen doing such a thing..." He trailed off, a proud smile playing at his lips as his students all nodded in understanding. "That leaves us with secrecy."

"Slytherin specialty," Blaise commented sarcastically. The Slytherins around her snickered. "Does Voldemort suspect you, professor?"

The question, asked from any other lips, would have earned a punishment far worse than detention, but as the student was Slytherin and therefore had a greater understanding of the real world, Snape shook his head. "There is no way to tell. However, should I become expendable, I cannot hear any plans if you make any."

Draco stood stiffly as the potions master strode from the dungeons. "In other words," he explained dryly to the second years, "if he's tortured, one of the first things he'll say to get Voldemort to trust him again is information of our plans to rescue Potter, if he hears of them."

"So what? We'll have to be careful around _our Head_ now?" Graham asked.

Millicent turned on him with a disbelieving look. "Have you learned _nothing_ as a Slytherin?" the fifth-year hissed. "How long would you last, facing down Voldemort with the Cruticus curse laid on every part of your body?"

The common room was cold, the chilling fear of reality and the terrors lying just outside the castle walls washing over the Slytherins.

Malcolm, resting between a chess move against Jacob Boyle, looked up with determination. "There is an issue we have to address, and address it soon," he stated calmly with wisdom beyond his years, looking at each Slytherin one at a time. "Voldemort will be recruiting the students in this house the heaviest. I am not calling out any of you, but I admit there are some of us who I fear will not remember the promises we made in our first year." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's painful to think about, but even this year, Marcus has joined Voldemort. I cannot image anyone else doing the same, but it's an unavoidable possibility."

Draco looked away when the second year looked to him, not saying anything and he was sure that many others felt the same. "There will be no accusations between us," he stated darkly.

"I never made an accusation," Jacob responded sincerely. "This house is more a family than my own blood relatives. I just wouldn't wish that life on anyone."

And as the Slytherins fell back to their cool silence, that statement troubled them more than they would admit.

----------------------------

Padma had just finished sending Cho up to bed when Terry rushed in, very un-Terry like, looking completely breathless. Mandy and Laura looked up in surprise from their story telling, their captivated audience of second and their years peering up with the same confusion on their faces. Stewart and Josie stopped their heated discussion on the different stages of moral development. Orla and Nancy paused in their four-way chess tournament with Morag and William. 

The rest of the Ravenclaws, sitting at scattered bronze tables around the room and between the high bookshelves, looked around as the comfortable murmur of work being done died down. Papers stopped shuffling; books had their pages marked and were put down; discussions and debates slowed to a trickle and finally halted. The only sound was the muffled cries of Cho and her friends beyond the curved walls of the maze-like Ravenclaw room.

Terry Boot was wired enough without rushing in from being Rowena-knows-where--even with Flitwick and the Gray Lady's announcement that no student could leave their common room. Terry was actually very good friends with Justin of Hufflepuff; he was also very clever, as were all Ravenclaws, but he didn't like to read or spend his days in deep discussion or thinking of different philosophies like his fellow classmates.

Terry was grinning madly. "Guess were I've been!"

"Out of the common room, that's for sure," Padma answered, trying to act stern. "As Head Girl, I'm supposed to punish you by taking points from my own house, if that be the case."

"Don't worry about it," Terry replied. "Nobody saw me." Padma shook her head. "Anyway, I found out why we have to stay in here. When I tell you what I've heard, that whole matter of house points will be completely forgotten. That got people's attention.

"Well, out with it," Morag shouted from across the room. She moved a pawn to take William's rook on one board even as her bishop was pounced by Orla's queen on another. "We don't have all day to wait in dreadful suspense."

"Is Cho here? Terry asked, looking around. When he couldn't see her, he said, "Harry Potter's gone missing again"

"What?" Laura's mouth dropped open. She went pale, along with half of the Ravenclaw population, and they all turned to see Cho walk from around one corner, flanked by her friends. The sixth year was shaking all over as she repeated her question in short, breakable syllables. "What?"

"C-Cho, I thought you were upstairs," Laura stuttered.

Cho looked ready to cry again. "Please don't cry," Terry pleaded but she shook her head fiercely.

"Th lest time I heard those words," she whispered softly, "Cedric came back dead-"

"Cho Chang, you can do better than this!" Padma ordered. Her expression was soft, a hard contrast with the tone of her voice. "You spent all summer in mourning. You're dismantling your life for no good reason--Cedric wouldn't want this, not from you.

"We'll never knock that, now will we? Cho bit back angrily. Everyone drew back in shock at the harsh words but Cho took a shuddering breath and quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, it's just...with everything that's happened...I never though about why he died before."

"Cho." Padma shook her head but Cho ignored her, eyes distant and focused on some far off point, mind relinquishing its hold on reality to dip into painful memories.

"I think that, before, I had just taken to the belief that Cedric died for a purpose, that his death was meaningful for some reason. To my mind, that was a simple fact, a given. He wouldn't have been killed unless there was some higher purpose involved."

"There was!" Mandy declared and the Ravenclaws nodded in mute agreement. "Cedric died because-"

Cho shook her head as Mandy struggled for the right words. "There wasn't. He was just there." A choked sob came from her throat. "There was no reason behind it. He just died; you heard Harry's: kill the spare."

"There's always a reason," Josie growled sharply. "Whether we see it, or are directly effected by it, makes no different. Besides, death is not something you can spend forever facing and mourning about. Thousands die daily, naturally or otherwise. Look to the Hufflepuffs if you feel yourself falling again. Cedric's own house does not mourn him as sharply as you do, not because they feel less but because they aren't about to spend their days in agony because they have already paid their tribute to him and are prepared to move on."

"Thee last few days have been hard for you, Cho. We know that. But," Stewart motioned to the air listlessly, "that is no reason for you to be so centered on death. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is just another step in our life of learning, necessary but not without its merits. Who knows what lies beyond the darkness of that eternal sleep?"

Cho sniffed but wiped at her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. "Trust me to encounter my own house when I'm looking for blind sympathy," she muttered. "All I get here is deep philosophy and a motive to move on."

Stewart frowned softly at his words being cast away so easily. "I'm not joking," he replied firmly.

She nodded. "I know that. Thank you."

"No problem."

Padma exhaled softly as all the tension left the room, looking for a good subject to turn to. "Tell me one good reason not to take off points for your wandering about the halls, Terry. And I mean good. Also, explain you statement concerning Harry Potter. If Cho doesn't mind, of course," she added, glancing the girl's way. Cho shook her head.

"Right the. I was just visiting Justin when all the news comes out about staying in your common house and all. I was about to leave when the Fat Friar stopped me, saying it wasn't safe and all and how he'd tell the headmaster that I was in there so nobody would think I was missing. So I stayed until everyone was pretty much distracted so I could sneak back here. But while I was there, Sprout came in. Turns out that it's Harry who's missing."

"Big surprise there," Laura rolled her eyes.

Padma had to agree with her. "You said I'd forget," she warned. "I haven't forgotten nothing yet."

"Maybe not, but what happened next sure is," Justin promised. "'Cause, just as Sprout told them all that they had to leave everything be, that Head Girl says it's not fair and soon, the whole house was saying that they were going to help Harry. I think we should, too."

Nancy snickered at the determined expr4ession on Terry' face but Padma silenced her with a look. "What do you mean, help?"

"It's no big secret as to the identity of Harry's kidnappers," Terry stated with a lecturing tone. "Only the Dark Lord has a reason to take him away. The Hufflepuffs realize this and now all have agreed to come up with a plan on how to protect him, how to get more wizards and witches to realize the dangers they are now in. But--"

"But Hufflepuffs are workers, not thinkers," William filled in.

"And as much as we hate to admit it, Slytherins are the best planners," Morag finished the thought. She looked intrigued. "What are you proposing? That we also join in this battle against the Dark Lord We are not placed in the house of Rowena because of our legendary courage. We Ravenclaws are the thinkers, the inventors, and the researchers--"

"I'm not suggesting that we challenge the Dark Lord outright," Terry replied haughtily. "But the fight is not a thing that concerns only courage and strength. We can do the Hufflepuffs research for them, freeing them to concentrate their work elsewhere. We can also teach them, subtly as ever, curses and counter-curses, as well as the Gryffindors. And we might be able to come up with solutions, invent new ways to join in the fight."

Padma held up her hand for silence as the room erupted in a fierce debate. She studied Terry's expression carefully, then quietly said, "I am in agreement with Terry. The last time the Dark Lord rose to power, he was not conquered for many years. We may all be adults before he is brought down again. However," she shouted as the noise broke out again.

No one paid her heed, too busy shouting out his or her own opinions. She glared at them and then asked, "Is this proper Ravenclaw behavior? This is a discussion, not a debate. If you cannot keep quiet until it is your turn to speak, then leave the rest of us to finish this conversation."

Her words chastened the Ravenclaws, returning the silence to the room, and Padma continued. "However, I feel that we must get all the facts about what Terry's heard before we, as a house, make a decision." Her eyes shined as she added: "Only as a house can we make a decision about a non-Ravenclaw student."

This settled the restless and everyone was quiet as Terry took a deep breath and related everything he'd heard during his brief stay in the Hufflepuff common room. His memory was as close to perfect as possible, restating almost everything word-for-word.

When he finished, Padma was resting her head in her arms, nodding in understanding. Because she was the highest authority, she would have the privilege of being the first to speak. "A strategic move," she informed them after a sufficient time to gather her thoughts. "Making Harry a honorary member, I mean. It insures that all Hufflepuffs in the past, present, and future will lend him their support."

"Hufflepuff loyalty is legendary," Nancy murmured. "Just as Slytherin--"

"With two houses behind him, Harry's influence increases significantly," Laura observed. "With three..."  
"Are you suggesting that we follow Hufflepuff example?" Orla demanded.

Laura gave her a cracked smile. "Perhaps."

"It's an idea," Cho, of all people, added to the conversation in support of Laura's suggestion. "I think that we should. Then, officials at the Ministry might be more open to Harry's words. After all, most of them _are_ Ravenclaws."

"And if the Ministry acknowledged the Dark Lord's return, the wizarding community will find themselves unable to deny it anymore. Then, they will be able to prepare for the upcoming war," William added.

"If no one disagrees," no one did, as the points came together, "then I, as Head Girl, do officially declare Harry Potter an honorary member of the Ravenclaw House."

Like what happened with Hannah, blue sparked and surrounded the Head Girl, but she was prepared for it and for the energy sap that Hannah had also undergone. The blues sparkled, hints of bronze tinting the wild streaks, and its eagle form was visible a moment before it soared off, down to and past the portrait that protected the Ravenclaw sanctuary.

Padma collapsed into Terry's waiting arms. "I-I didn't know it'd be this tiring," she admitted but Terry shushed her, carrying her to one of the long, blue couches pressed up against the walls.

"Isn't it a wonderful coincidence," Padma murmured, "each of us having our own Head Boy or Girl? A bit too much of a coincidence, if you ask me. Now, we can add whoever we want to our house without having to consult the headmaster or a professor."

"When he returns to Hogwarts, I think Harry will be rather shocked at the changes," Josie joked from Padma's side. The Ravenclaws drew around their collapsed Head Girl worriedly but she smiled wearily, already beginning to sit up. Terry didn't let her go, though.

"We need to send an ambassador to the Gryffindors," Stewart pointed out suddenly. "It will not be due for us to suddenly adopt one of their own without their knowing."

"And Professor Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick as well," Mandy stood up. "I volunteer myself for these tasks."

"Granted," Padma nodded. "I suggest that you form a small task force. In the future, we may need to send messages quickly to these persons, and it will be easier if there is already a group prepared for the job." Mandy nodded stiffly and hurried off, calling off several Ravenclaws, including Cho, to join her.

"I have a feeling that our time in the library is going to increase soon," Terry joked but stopped laughing when Padma looked up to him from his lap.

"As this is you idea, Terry, I assign you the task of directing our researching," she stated and he gulped. "You have the whole of Ravenclaw at your disposal, so long as the Ravenclaw in question doesn't have a prior arrangement. It wouldn't do for our Quidditch tea to lose their edge." She smiled, tucking her head against his chest, and gave an exhausted sigh. "But you yourself don't have to spend too much time in the library, if you don't want."

"You have more projects in mind, correct?" Padma nodded and Josie, with a quick glance at Stewart, plowed on. "I propose a small group be given the task of researching the mental and moral aspects of known Death Eaters, to better our understanding of their strategies and thoughts. Stewart and I have already discussing and researching such an issue, but more minds are always better in expanding our thoughts' horizons in these predicaments."

"And I also propose that we Ravenclaws met at least once a day to discuss our findings," Stewart added quickly. "So that other discoveries will guide us all. For example, if we find that Death Eaters prefer using certain curses because of their mental dispositions, those in research can expand their efforts to counter that specific curse."

"Very good idea!" Padma congratulated, leaning heavily against Terry, her eyelids dropping. She looked around the room. "Has everyone heard that? Good. Before we go to bed, we can spend an extra hour for that idea. The time will differ from day to day, of course. Are there any other suggestions?"

William cleared his throat uneasily. "I-I propose that we send an invitation to the Slytherin house-"

His voice was immediately drowned out by boos and shouts. Padma struggled to keep her head up but gave up, completely falling against Terry's chest with a whimper, and then she fell asleep.

Terry glared around the room, whispering, "Quiet! Padma's asleep!"

"We'll deal with that suggestion later," Orla promised with a vicious look in her eyes.

And Padma fell into a spiraling darkness, unaware that in the Hufflepuffs' common room, Hannah had fallen in the same deep sleep. Her friends tucked her in with worried expressions before climbing back to their common rooms as Terry dodged through the maze-like corridors to the girls' dormitories, about to do the same thing.

And as they slept, the two shared one more thing: a dream. 

----------------------------

Hours later, as the dead of midnight fell from the starry skies and the thick clocks around Hogwarts chimed their magic songs, most of the beings of Hogwarts slept soundly, not thinking past their current comfort and dreams. The library had closed hours before, but that didn't stop one person from rummaging through the dusty books. 

Dumbledore sighed, gently replacing yet another useless book back onto its shelf before massaging his forehead, crinkled though it was. Several new lines of worry had appeared on his face that very night.

When he head the chimes, he stood slowly, dusting off his thick robes, and made his way back to his office. While walking there, he passed Filch. The two nodded, not saying a word as they passed on, but Filch looked as haggard as Dumbledore felt. No matter that he hated the children, Filch took his duty very personally and when a Hogwarts student suddenly disappeared, the man felt that it was his own fault.

Just as Dumbledore had.

He reached his office, the gargoyle swinging open without needing the password, and Dumbledore walked up the stairs, each step feeling like a heavy burden on his old age. The summer before had felt the same, with the exception that Harry had only been gone a short while, hardly an hour, before returning. Somewhere, deep in his mind, Dumbledore was asking why Harry hadn't escaped yet. And somewhere deeper asked himself why he expected so much.

"Because...Harry is the heir of Gryffindor," Dumbledore answered his own question, regret tinting his voice. "And he's always before managed to escape his enemies, be they his family or Voldemort.

Thousands of thoughts flittered through Dumbledore's mind before he took the last stair up. 'Harry could be at the old Riddle mansion--no, it had already been checked and though there were signs of recent Death Eater activity, there was no sign of Harry.' Godric's Hollow, Nott's Hideaway, the Northeast Bay; dozens of places where Voldemort had once struck or had once held his infamous Death Eater meetings at all came to mind, but each were turned away, having already been checked with no results.

Dumbledore sighed again and opened his door, wincing at the creak that came with it. Fawkes lifted his head lazily, no doubt wondering what his friend was doing up so late. Albus smiled wearily, stroking the beautiful bird's red feathers with his bony hand. Fawkes made a content purr deep in his throat, lowering its head back beneath his left wing to fall asleep.

"If only I could do so as easily," Albus murmured, stroking the bird one last time before walking to the portrait of Professor Dippet. The bald old wizard was still quite asleep when Albus pulled the hidden doorknob beneath Dippet's nose, swinging the portrait open.

The meeting room was empty but even as Albus shut the door behind him, a flurry of movement came from the fireplace and several wizards and witches stepped into the room.

Sirius and Remus, both looking as exhausted as humanely possible (a heart-stopper, because Remus, with his werewolf abilities, rarely tired) were of the first there. They tried to smile but settled with just collapsing in a chair. Sirius' head barely touched the large, ebony table in the room before soft snores started coming from him.

"Headmaster," Remus greeted but he didn't look much better than his friend. Dumbledore shushed him, motioning to a chair, and Remus took it gratefully. Remus managed to pull up Sirius' cowl as a witch entered.

Arabella shook the ashes from her robes and straightened her hair, giving a tired nod to Dumbledore before falling into her own chair. "May the night finally end," she muttered and Remus nodded in tired agreement.

There was a moment of waiting before the final members crawled through the fireplace, making the seating at the table a full count of eleven. 'There had once been fourteen'--Albus cut that thought off before the pain that always came with it appeared. Percy, the newest member, sat next to his parents and oldest brother Bill. Fletcher, Arabella, and Morgana, all old members, sat together.

He smiled, a bit forcibly so, and started the meeting. "It is unusual, I know, that I called such a late meeting, but it was necessary."

Sirius' snorted awake when Remus poked him in the gut.

"I know many of you are tired, but I prefer that everyone know of what has happened and spread the word as quickly as possible." Dumbledore lost his smile, alerting everyone in the room to the seriousness of the situation.

"This afternoon, Harry Potter was kidnapped."

"What?" Sirius exploded, jerking to his feet. His robes fell off in the movement, and several of the members gasped in recognition but he didn't notice. Sirius was gaping at the headmaster. "Please tell me this is a joke..."

"I'm afraid not, Sirius," Dumbledore replied gravely.

"Albus, do you know who that is?" Arabella screamed, bringing her wand up in defense but she didn't have anything to worry about because Sirius had again collapsed to his chair, not in exhaustion but in nerve-racking guilt and fear. "That's--"

"Yes, it's Sirius Black." Dumbledore ran a hand through his hair. "I haven't the time to fully explain this to you, but Sirius is innocent. James and Lily switched Secret Keepers at the last minute, charging Peter with the responsibility. I wish I could explain more fully but there isn't time." 

Sirius gave a choked sob and Remus leaned over, muttering something. He only got a fierce shake of the head and when he tried to say something more, Sirius pulled away, curling his body together.

"I was in a meeting with the magical beings when I heard of it, and it was too late by then," Dumbledore continued. "It appears that someone, using Polyjuice again, took the form of Romania, the dragons' representative, to lead Harry into a trap. A Death Eater managed to get into the castle and, while we were still unaware, smuggled Harry out of Hogwarts."

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead again. "This came merely days after Harry confided to me information on a curse with no name but one that has the potential to end this war once and for all with no loss. He had also just retold the events of last year to the whole of the school plus the magical creatures who'd come to meet with me. I do not believe this is a coincidence."

"Magical species?" Percy sighed, looking much older than his years, The stress of spying on the Ministry for the Order had taken their toil, as well as the constant fear that Harry would suddenly appear and take him out. "Have they agreed to join us?"

"We're not here for that!" Sirius shouted, trying to get to his feet but was losing the struggle as Remus grabbed his arms, pulling him back down. "Let-me-go!" Sirius pulled free and glared at everyone in the room. "Harry's out there--missing--and all you can think about is some magical creature!"

"Sirius!" Dumbledore frowned and Sirius sulked back to his seat, once again falling beyond the conversation, no doubt conversing with his personal demons about all his faults.

Percy looked shaken and took a deep breath. "It's not that I don't care about Harry," he denied. "It's just that the Minister has just recently put some emphasis on capturing several species, like unicorns and pegasi, and I think that he'll start blaming them for You-Know-Who's attacks."

"That is what they feared," Dumbledore answered gravely. "The weakest, like the fae, have taken to hiding while the stronger, like dragons, have agreed to think about it but warn that should they be attacked by the Ministry, they'll fight back." 

He took a shaky breath. "Harry has been gone for half a day; great men have broken under less. We must assume the best, prepare for the worst, and start our own searches immediately. Starting tomorrow, each member will be given a partner to work with. There cannot be any delays. Sirius, I'm sorry but you will have to return to your cell. We cannot have the Ministry blaming you again."

Sirius didn't appear to hear him at first but nodded once.

"That is all I can say. It is late, so I ask that each of you return to your homes or jail cells, whichever is the case, and get as much sleep as possible."

Everyone left feeling like they never should have come.

----------------------------

Harry looked around in confusion. The last thing he remembered was the Death Eaters, calling out "_Crucio!_"

As the memory came back to him, the room he was in turned a startling black color and the pain of that memory came flying back to him. Harry screamed in pain, willing the pain away-

And it was gone. Sweating and breathing heavily, Harry got back to his feet and looked around in surprise. He brought up another memory, this time thinking of when he won the Quidditch Cup. The room flared to life again, going into a comfortable pink color and Harry felt exactly as he did that night: ready to take on the world. "This is weird." His voice echoed off the walls.

"Tell me about it," someone's answered, her voice reverberating in the same way his did. *Pop* Hannah Abbot appeared, her hair down and looking quite confused. As soon as she saw Harry, she let out a squeal. "Harry Potter! There you are! Everyone's looking everywhere for you, at least I think so; where are you?"

He couldn't answer because *Pop* another girl appeared. "Hello?" Padma asked. She glanced around and blinked in shock. "Harry? Hannah? Where am I?"

"Don't look at me," Harry said when they both looked at him. "I wasn't here a second ago."

"Oh Harry!" Hannah exclaimed, rushing over to him. She seemed to float in the air, not able to move, and, frustrated, she reverted to reaching out to him. "What on earth happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"She means that it looks like you met the underside of a car," Padma answered, looking worried herself. "Look at you: cuts on your wrists, black eyes, bruises-"

"Funny. I thought Missy got rid of those," Harry muttered to himself, lifting a hand to touch his eye. He winced with a hiss. "Bugger. I think that whoever put me here should at least make me comfortable," Harry shouted. "It's the lesat you can do!" The room turned a shade darker, becoming scarlet.

"This is creepy." Hannah shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. "All we need right now is for-"

*Pop* "Bloody hell! Where am I?! Potter?! What are you doing here?" Draco shouted as he appeared. He looked around. "What is this? Some kind of trick?"

"Malfoy!" Harry's mouth dropped. "Now I remember!"

"Remember what?" Padma asked, silently thanking whatever it was that kept all of them from moving. Malfoy looked like he was about to string someone's neck.

"Where I am! I'm at-"

*Pop*

"Harry?" Ron asked, eyes wide. He reached out. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, it's him all right, Weasley," Malfoy sneered. He looked uncomfortable, glancing left and right. "I'd prefer if you kept your little reunion quiet. I, for one, need to get out of here."

"Is this some meeting of the Head Boys and Girls?" Hannah asked. "'Cause we're all here."

"That's true," Padma agreed. "But I could've sworn I was in my common room a second ago."

"Me too," Hannah, Ron, and Draco echoed at the same time. They glared at each other.

"Stop stealing my words, Malfoy," Ron snarled.

"Why would I do that, Weasley?" Draco shot back. "They're not worth anything."

"Hey!" Harry shouted. "Have you guys forgotten about me?"

"Always got to be the center of attention, don't you Potter?" Draco drawled but stopped short when he truly saw Harry's condition. "What have you been doing while you were gone, beating yourself with a hammer?"

"Blimey, Harry," Ron breathed. "Sirius's going to go ballistic."

"What?" Harry looked at himself. "There something I don't see?"

"Just those bruises there, your black eyes, deep cuts gushing blood here and there," Hannah listed off. "You know, just the things most people don't have. Like that gushing blood."

"It's not really 'gushing,'" Padma went on, examining Harry from afar. "In fact, I'd say that you, Harry, are envisioning your body in a sort of frozen state of being. Whatever happened to your body, your subconscious is marking it here."

"And here is?"

"Why, we're in a dream, of course," Padma answered Draco's question promptly.

Harry and Ron groaned. "What's with you and dreams, Harry?"

"Don't know," Harry groaned again, making way to bury his face in his hands.

"Harry!" Hannah gasped.

"What?" He lifted his face and they all witnessed it. Where his cheek had been smooth a moment before, a cut now sprang across, claiming the unmarked skin for its own. A few drops of blood slid down but, like what Padma had said, froze like tears. Seeing their gaping, Harry lifted a hand and wiped at his cheek, smearing the blood.

"Oh, gross, mate!" Ron paled.

"Jeez, it _had_ to be the knife guy," Harry muttered. The room turned black again as Harry remembered the pain and-

"Ah!!!!!!! Stop it stop it stop it stop!" Hannah screamed, falling to her knees.

Surprised, Harry pulled away from the memory to see all four on the ground, gasping for breath.

"I want out, now!" Draco breathed, several shades paler.

"Wait, you all felt that?" Harry asked.

Ron coughed. "Felt it? It was like some bloody..." He shook his head, coughing again.

"What was that?" Padma asked, voice shrill from screaming.

"That was my memory," Harry explained, feeling even guiltier than ever. "But I didn't know-"

"Christ, Potter. Don't you think?" Draco shot out.

"I didn't know!" Harry yelled. "You think I'd honestly put you all through that on purpose? It's bad enough that I had to go through it." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Anyway, _that_ was the feeling of being under the Cruticus Curse."

"No wonder it's Unforgivable," Ron's voice was shaky. "Worst pain I ever felt."

To their surprise, Harry let out a bark of bitter laughter. "Worst pain?" he asked. "That's nothing. Try feeling it when there's more than one person cursing you. Don't worry, I'll try not to think about the pain _that_ caused." His face was dark for a moment, and the room, which had turned lighter, went back to its dark color.

"Harry, I think that we're in a dream that you created," Padma said in a calm voice. "That's why it reflects your moods, your memories. So just try and think about why you called us here."

"I never thought I'd be at the mercy of Potter," Draco muttered to himself.

"Bloody hell. Don't even start with me, Malfoy," Harry bit out. "The last thing I remember is getting tortured by Voldemort and his cronies. I don't think that I had enough time to think, much less create some magical dream world, _much less call Malfoy to it!_"

The other four went quiet after his outburst.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Harry began.

"Don't be. I'd hate to think about how I'd act, being in your position." Ron shivered. "Torture? This doesn't seem real."

"Hey, I got the scars to prove it," Harry joked. "Besides, it's kind of like being back at the Dursleys. No food, people yelling at me, getting tortured--just the Dursleys carried to an extreme." But his face was pale. "Alright...the only thing I can think about that involves a dream is this dream I've been having about the founders and-"

He couldn't say anymore because the room took on the dream as soon as the words left his mouth. Except that it seemed to be frozen in the last scene. Harry gaped at it. "T-this is where it always ends."

He got up and walked over to Godric. "See, there's this war where everyone's against Salazar Slytherin. I'm guessing that this is the final battle, because everyone's going full out. Come on, you gotta see this."

The powers that be holding the others from moving were lifted, and they made their way through the battlefield to where Harry was standing. Even Draco looked shaken at the frozen images around them; the two dragons were clawing at each other; several goblins held their spears, about to impale a witch; an elf was in the process of hacking of the heads of a dozen snakes-

Harry stood at the top of a hill, looked at two men. One was standing with a proud, arrogant look on his face. His skin was pale, outlined by thick silver hair and with shining green eyes. The other was fallen to the ground with a phoenix hunched on his shoulder. He was tanned with black hair and blue eyes, looking the worse for wear.

Harry glanced over at the four students and pointed. "This," pointing to the first. "is Salazar Slytherin. And he's Godric Gryffindor," pointing to the second. "Right now, Gryffindor's about to say some all powerful curse that does something."

"Real helpful explanation, Potter," Draco drawled, getting his voice back.

Harry didn't seem to hear him, because he was walking to the two women nearby. "These two are Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw." Helga had her honey gold hair tied back in a braid, skin pale. Rowena had dark skin, a sharp contrast to the near white color of her hair. "They were the ones telling him to use this curse. And no, Malfoy, that's not it."

Harry took a deep breath. "I don't know what it all means, but they were going on about using a curse to finally finish the battle. Lady Rowena and Lady Helga were saying that Gryffindor had to use it, and that the phoenixes had 'agreed'. I didn't know what this meant until I found this curse in the library awhile ago, saying that it had only been used once and that it was so energy-consuming that almost half of the phoenix population had died, giving up their energy for this curse."

"But phoenixes don't die," Padma countered, taking her fascinated eyes from her founder. "At least, not forever. If they're killed, then they just get reborn from their own ashes."

"That's what the book mentioned, too. It said that not only did half of the phoenix population die, but that they're still giving up their energy to keep the curse up. It's that powerful."

"So, after this, it just ends?" Ron asked. Harry nodded and shrugged when Ron asked, "Why?"

Draco was walking in a circle around his founder and suddenly exclaimed, "What's this?"

"Oh." Harry wrinkled his nose. "That's Slytherin's dagger. You see, he and Gryffindor were in a sword fight, and Gryffindor's sword broke Slytherins. Just as Gryffindor was saying that he didn't want to kill Slytherin, Slytherin pulls this dagger out of no where and sticks it in Gryffindor's side. And it has this poison that's incurable. Pretty nasty guy, if you ask me. No honor or anything."

Draco looked hungrily at the dagger awhile longer.

"So while the guys were playing with their swords, what was Helga doing?" Hannah asked excitedly.

"She was apparating around like it was nothing!" Harry answered excitedly. "You should've seen her! Mostly, she was defensive: healing and shields. But no one could touch her!"

"And Rowena?" Padma asked, unable to keep the hint of excitement out of her voice.

Harry shook his head. "They were all too powerful for words!" Harry answered truthfully. "She took on this whole group of basilisks by herself , took them down with only two curses."

The two girls looked on with hero worship in their eyes while Ron took Harry aside. "Harry, we told Fred and them the whole story."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"We told them everything. The whole Quidditch team, Dean, Seamus, Lee, Neville. They all know. Is there anything we can do?"

"I-"

"We're helping, too," Hannah cut in, hearing the last of the conversation. She folded her arms rebelliously against her chest. "Added you to our house and all. So you're a Gryffindor-Hufflepuff and you better like it."

"Actually," Padma went on to say. "Better make that a Gryffindor-Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw." She blushed. "We sort of did the same thing, so you've got us Ravenclaws by your side as well."

"I-" Harry looked absolutely speechless, looking back and forth between the three with amazement. Off to the side, Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets forlornly, trying not to feel left out. "I really don't know what to say."

"That's the best part about it," Hannah replied cheerfully. "You don't have a say about it. Except for maybe some quick comments, you know.

Another two cuts had appeared on Harry's arms while no one noticed. "A quick comment?" Harry asked. "Like, get me out of here?"

Padma's mouth dropped open. "That's right! Where are you?"

"I'm at-"

"Potter, who's cutting you up?" Draco cut in harshly, drawing attention to the new cuts on Harry's arms.

Wincing, Harry gingerly brought his fingers up to touch the new wounds. "Oh no," he muttered. "They're going to put water on it."

"What?" Ron asked.

Harry looked up. "By now, they'll realize that I've fallen unconscious, so to wake me up, they'll put water on the wounds. It'll hurt enough to shock me back to consciousness."

"What's so bad about a little water?" Draco rebuked. "I put water on my cuts all the time."

"_Salt_ water," Harry gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain attacked him and, consequently, on everyone else in the room. The frozen war scene disappeared and the room simply went black to reflect Harry's agony.

"Don't mean to do this to you," Harry smiled through the pain. "So I better just wake up, huh?"

"But Harry-" Ron blinked his eyes open to find himself lying down in bed. "AH!" He threw off the sheets and leaped out of bed, down the stairs and out into the hall. "-where are you?"

With any luck, he'd run into a professor (hopefully not Snape) who'd be able to take him to the headmaster. Harry would probably try and take this into his own hands.

In two other rooms, Hannah and Padma were doing the exact same thing. But deep in the dungeons, Draco clenched his fists and lay back down, willing himself not to try and help Potter.

"The other three will help him," Draco muttered to himself, trying to ease his conscience as he rolled over to go back to sleep. But he couldn't. "Bloody hell, I'm going to regret this." Draco hissed as he rolled from the bed, threw on a robe, and went for Professor Snape.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight -- Truth, or something like it

__

"What in the--Weasley! Get back here this instant--Abbot? What are you--Another one?! Patil, get over here!"

When Minerva McGonagall found students wandering the halls late at night, the main thing she expected them to do after getting caught was to try and hide. These three, however, all but tackled her.

"Professor! Harry's in trouble-"

"It was this dream thing. Padma says-"

"We just saw him, looks really bad-"

"-no idea where he is-"

"-thought maybe Dumbledore could help-"

"It's really freaky, if you think about it-"

"Hey, you dolts, she can only hear one of us at a time!" Padma nearly shouted, shocking everyone. She cleared her throat. "Professor McGonagall, we have just now awakened from a dream which included Harry Potter. He is very hurt and we just thought you should know."

"My goodness. Have you three been drinking?" McGonagall asked, aghast. "What are you talking about?" Then her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And how did you know about Harry?"

"Please, professor, you have to believe us!" Hannah pleaded. "Draco Malfoy was with us, and he'll agree with us."

McGonagall looked around. "I don't see Draco anywhere."

"Figures," Ron huffed. "He'll probably deny everything and-"

"Minerva, is it legal to conduct such late night meetings with your students?" Snape's sharp voice carried down the hall as he showed up. He stopped short when he saw exactly who those students were. "Well, what an amusing... coincidence. Mr. Malfoy and I were on our way to see the headmaster about some matter; I believe that is where you three were heading as well?"

Draco tried to step behind his teacher's back, avoiding the other three's eyes as McGonagall stuttered for words and finally waved her hand. "Go on, Severus. I haven't been able to make heads or tails of what they're saying. Perhaps Albus can."

As soon as McGonagall was gone, Snape fixed the three with a determined glare. "Draco had just told me some interesting news," he began in a slow, dangerous voice. "However, I think there may be some things he might have forgotten. Mr. Weasley, if you'll please..."

Rather unwillingly, Ron started telling every detail he remembered, with Padma and Hannah adding bits and pieces he'd forgotten out. They started down one hall, turning and turning until Ron was thoroughly lost. "I think that's it," he concluded lamely. Snape just nodded.

"His wounds? He was surprised to see them?"

"Yea," Hannah answered quickly as they took another turn to come face to face with a stone gargoyle.

They fell quiet (Draco, actually, had yet to speak a word so he'd been quiet the whole time) and Snape glared at them in annoyance. He sighed and looked at the gargoyle. "Chocolate cream puff," and the gargoyle leaped aside.

"Where are we going?" Ron demanded.

Snape turned on him. "What?"

"Uh..." Ron gulped and looked away. "Never mind."

"Continue," Snape told Hannah as they stepped onto the spiraling staircase that carried them round and round to the top.

"Um, yea, he was surprised, like he thought they'd been healed. But," and her eyes widened like she just remembered something important. "He said that Missy healed it. Whoever Missy is."

"Missy?" Snape sneaked a look at Draco. "Did he say anything else?" Hannah shook her head and they reached an oak door, a brass griffin shining out from its place as the doorknocker. "Very well, we-"

He was cut off as the door opened and Dumbledore himself stopped in surprise. His blue eyes widened at the sight of such guests standing just outside his doorway. "Severus, what a surprise. I expect there must be some occasion of importance for to visit me at this late hour, and to bring along students no less."

"Headmaster," Snape's tone was respectful, so much so that the students did a double take in disbelief. "Draco woke me up, telling me some tale about having just had a dream with these other three and Potter. Naturally, I thought that you should be informed. I was on my way, bringing him here, when we ran into Minerva, also being faced with the same tale."

"So you brought them along as well," Dumbledore observed, a faint twinkle in his eyes. He smiled and opened the door wider. "Yes, well come in, come in." As he shut the door behind them and sat at his deck, he added, "As a matter of fact, I was just discussing Harry with some of my old friends. You four do know what's happened, correct?"

"All we know is that sometime today, Harry went missing and the rest of us were sent to our common rooms," Padma answered, taking a bite out of an offered lemon drop.

Dumbledore's expression clouded over. "Yes, but there is much more to that. I believe you are ready to hear what I'm going to tell you, though I must ask that this information goes no further than this room." They nodded. "Harry was kidnapped, though we still have no idea exactly who was the kidnapper other than that Voldemort was behind it. But whoever it was, they had to be invited into Hogwarts personally by a teacher or student to get past the defense wards."

He glanced at them with some hope in his eyes. "Perhaps if you told me this dream, I might be able to narrow down our search."

So they told him.

---------------------------

When Harry tried to wake up from his dream, he only found himself falling into deeper, darker dreams, dreams of nightmarish creatures tearing at his skin; of demons who twisted the mind and soul of a body, drawing out with razor-sharp fingers drops of blood that slipped like red wine to a dusty floor.

He even dreamed that he was behind the demons, watching them destroy the bodies of men and laughing as they torn flesh like bands of leather. In those dreams, he looked older, skin pale but eyes dark, no glasses hiding their green shine. In those dreams, he could wave a hand and command the earth itself to spin his enemies into oblivion. The skies darkened with a hiss, the trees shook with a wave, the very air became solid and lifted him up. He commanded it all, and flew high into the sky to see the destruction being wrecked upon the earth.

And he enjoyed it all.

Harry screamed as he woke up, opening his bright green eyes to see the knife-guy's eyes not an inch away. Instinctively, Harry drew back or tried to as his back slammed against the wall. Every bone ached.

"He's awake, master," Knife-guy said, turning his head to look at a dark shadow.

"I know that," Voldemort hissed back. "Do you think me blind?" The threat behind those words was so thick that even the other wizards drew back in fear. Knife-guy shook his head quickly but Voldemort had already whispered, "_Crucio._"

Harry groaned, closing his eyes and ears to the screams. His body hurt... 

The screams stopped. "Did you have a good sleep?"

With no little dread, Harry realized that Voldemort had turned back to him. He kept his mouth shut, promising himself not to speak, not to give Voldemort any openings.

"Did you enjoy talking to your friends?"

Harry's eyes snapped open. "W-what?"

Voldemort was standing just before him, looking very angry indeed. "I'm not an idiot, Potter," he hissed. "I know when magic is being performed. You have done _something_, and managed to contact others outside of this house. It's too bad; I enjoyed this house and now that you told them where you are, we'll have to leave." His eyes flashed. "That house elf will have to be punished for her stupidity, Lucius."

"Of course, my Lord," one of the Death Eaters, Lucius, bowed and left.

"No, leave Missy alone!"

"Prepare to leave," Voldemort continued, ignoring Harry's outburst. Or Harry thought he had, until Voldemort turned those blood red eyes on him again. "And bring that elf, since he seems to care so much for her."

Drat. Harry looked around, tried to move his body but couldn't. The room emptied out as the Death Eaters went to do as their master told them to. Voldemort walked around the room, his very presence sucking any light in it. The silence was oppressing.

Nagini slid up around Harry, almost suffocating him within her coils. _Young master,_ she hissed. _Speaker to snakes_-

__

Quiet, Nagini Voldemort commanded. For a time, Harry thought he heard a quiver of fear in the wizard's voice. Suddenly, he noticed the many dark, dead bodies of creatures demon-like in their looks. Cruel fangs and jutting claws reached out for him, managing to frighten him even in death.

He let out a cry and jumped back against his chains, preferring the injured flesh wounds to the demons on the floor. The demons that looked exactly as the things in his dream.

Voldemort sneered. "Yes, what kind creatures you've conjured, Potter. Did you really think that my Death Eaters could not handle such beasts?"

"What-what do you mean?" Harry whispered, breaths coming in ragged tatters.

"Your magic, Potter!" Voldemort roared. "Do not play innocent with me. You will tell me the secret to your magic, will tell me how you manage to call up such things even in sleep."

Harry paled in the face of the man's anger, sparing a glance at the dead monsters on the floor. 'I didn't do that,' he thought rebelliously. '... Did I?'

Missy was roughly thrown into the small chamber and Nagini slid away to bother the small house elf. She screamed and tried to get away but the snake was too quick and soon had Missy trapped in a network of sliding coils, ever closing inward. There was a small pop and a hooded Death Eater appeared, bowing lowly. "We are ready, master."

Voldemort nodded and the Death Eater grabbed Harry arm, yanking him hard against the chain with one hand as the other produced a key and released the student. Voldemort unfolded a black robe from the thin air and beckoned Missy forward. "Dress him," he ordered and the trembling house elf did as she was told. A sick feeling arose as Harry saw the dark bruises coloring her face, but the feeling was nothing compared to what dropped his stomach when he realized that the robes were the uniform of a Death Eater. Missy pulled the robes around him, whispering soft apologies and self-condemnations as she placed the frightening mask over Harry's green eyes, concealing the tortured prisoner in the garments of his captors. As she did so, she quickly healed his wounds, leaving behind only bruises and sore skin.

Voldemort threw a skull's grin at Harry, red eyes flashing. "Do the robes fit?" The single Death Eater, at a nod from Voldemort, grabbed hold of Harry's hand again and, without a single warning, apparated.

They reappeared and Harry's stomach dropped out as he recognized the place. The Burrow jutted out from the ground, looking as homely as ever. Desperately, he hoped that none of the Weasleys were home. It seemed that his hope was true, for all the lights were out and even the usually climbing smoke column was absent. There were several more pops in the air as almost two dozen Death Eaters appeared, gathering around.

Voldemort waved a hand and several Death Eaters went forward, wands out.

One came back. "There is no one here, master."

"No?" Voldemort purred, voice dripping with darkness. His red eyes focused on the house and Harry, standing beside him, shivered in his robes. "Has that old fool reorganized the Phoenix?"

"Shall we wait, master?" the Death Eater inquired.

Voldemort shook his head and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "No. Search the house and destroy anything without a use." The Death Eater wasted no time in going to spread the news and Voldemort absently called his snake to him. Nagini had been throttling Missy again, much to the amusement of the idle Death Eaters. _Search the area,_ he told her in his hissing voice. _Find their secrets, find their hidden places._ The snake trailed away.

"I thought you didn't attack purebloods," Harry muttered beneath his breath, keeping his eyes down and away from the destruction of his best friend's home.

"An exception in this case," Voldemort replied, much calmer than back at the Malfoy Manor. He stood behind the rest. "The Weasleys are muggle-lovers, a crime of perhaps the worst degree."

The sounds of breaking glass made Harry wince and he imagined he could see the family ghoul attacking the invaders or the screams of the goblins in the garden, fleeing the bloodthirsty wizards.

"Besides, Arthur Weasley happens to hold a rather influential position in the Ministry; his home undoubtedly holds several confidential documents that will help in the upcoming war."

"War?" Harry choked on the word and, at Voldemort's skull grin, he fell silent, preferring the violent commotion to any more of Voldemort's comments.

The Death Eaters surprised Harry with their efficiency; after hardly thirty minutes, the 'attack' was over and they trailed from the house, some coming empty-handed and some heaving magically-lightened boxes full of valuable documents. Nagini came slithering back, whispering the location of a dark cave turned into a hidden study and Voldemort sent a handful of his followers to ransack that as well. The night's dark reign was broken as a fire burned down the house and the eerie Dark Mark floating above and Harry was almost glad when the same Death Eater as before grabbed his hand again. He would rather run away than be forced to watch the Burrow burn to the ground.

They disapparated to several more homes, repeating the same scene of destruction and plunder at each location. The Death Eaters became more rowdy and less cautious after each pillaging, as if each time reaffirmed their own sense of power and invincibility. Out of all the Death Eaters, only a few did not actively participate in the destruction. One of them was the Death Eater assigned to apparate Harry to and from each ruin.

Not all the houses were empty, however. Most of them were occupied by peacefully sleeping wizards and witches, awakened with no little confusion that turned into fear and panic. Most tried to flee or hide; only a few tried to fight back. Harry realized for the first time what powerful reputations the Death Eaters had among the magical community as an old and dignified wizard begged for his life, completely forgetting the wand gripped in his hand that he'd likely brought out when going to investigate the noise. 

"How can you stand this," he asked, voice breaking at the sixth house, his question voiced over the scream of a young witch. He shuddered and closed his eyes, trying to block out the noise but when his eyes closed, hers wasn't the only scream he heard. Twin children had been given the chance to flee or fight at the previous house and, while running away, one tripped and dodged the curse that set the other aflame. The house before had a single young and courageous young woman who'd dodged several hexes, throwing many of them right back at her attackers, but was felled when three Death Eaters shot the same curse instantaneously, strengthening it to the point of being lethal. When the Death Eaters attacked, many came out bearing the former owners' property like some sort of trophy. One Death Eater even came out sporting a babe, claiming it as his own.

The Death Eater didn't reply, leaving Harry to drown in his thoughts.

The Dark Mark was left over each house and Harry imagined that he'd have nightmares for many years, hearing Voldemort's dead voice call out "Morsmorde" and seeing the green signal appear over the dead bodies of nameless victims.

"If you run, no one will see you."

Harry started and looked around but saw no one. He gulped and whispered, "What?"

"The Dark Lord is personally torturing an official inside right now," the voice answered, startling Harry as he realized it was the Death Eater, muttering words out of the side of his mouth. "I have permission to join him. Nagini is to watch you, but the elf is too distracting."

"W-why are you helping me?"

The Death Eater didn't reply, taking a few steps forward to the house. "Go," he whispered fiercly. "There isn't anything for a mile, but if you can reach the next house before they realize that you're gone, you'll be safe. Remove the robes and mask, then run." He took a few more steps, obviously waiting for Harry to go.

Harry didn't waste anymore time. He shot off as fast as he could, ignoring the bruises and ripping off the robes and mask as he ran. For a moment, he feared that the Death Eater was only baiting him, dangling the opportunity to escape before his eyes before snatching it way but no attacks came at him. The sounds of the Death Eaters faded away, leaving Harry with his heavy breathing to blare in his ears. And soon, even that faded as Harry reached his limits and fainted dead away.

---------------------------

"I'm telling you, I heard screaming," the woman insisted. Her husband and the officer exchanged long-suffering gazes as the rest of the patrol packed up. It had become a nightly occurrence lately, but regulations stated that every call for help had to answered, no matter how sane.

"I'm terribly sorry," the husband apologized once again, showing the officer the way out and biding the hard-working police a good night before shutting the door and turning back to view the room. Total chaos. Everything was destroyed, almost as though a storm had blown in some time during the night and silently wreaked havoc but everyone knew by now that no outside force had done this. It was all his wife in her delusions.

Comfortingly, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come now," he urged kindly, lovingly. "Let's go back to bed." Most nights after she awoke like this, awoke to find that a room in the house had been strangled by her own hands, she would shake and cry and plead her unwillingness until the morning, letting him draw her close ad whisper words of assurance and love. Most nights, when her nightmare took control of her and forced her like the possessed to mangle everything, she would listen to him and go back to bed, assured in knowing that in the morning things would be taken care of.

Tonight was not like most nights.

"I heard screaming," she insisted, balking at going upstairs, her frail arms wrapped around herself as she shivered. The night wasn't cold.

He nodded, still trying to guide her upstairs. "I know." His wife had a rare disease, a disease of the mind where there came times when she insisted that she was being spoken to though no one was there, where she insisted she could see things many miles away when she was locked in a room. Most of the time, this disease meant little, just that there were times when he had to love her all the more, but lately the disease had come to a new stage. She would lose control of herself and, as if fighting someone or something, would attack anything in the nearby area. She screamed out things in Latin, more often than not holding up a thin stick like a conductor's baton, and in the end she would collapse and cry herself to sleep.

Some of the neighborhood's children were convinced she was a witch. Most of the neighborhood's adults believed she was possessed. He knew that neither was true. The disease had simply come to a new development but she was still his, the one love of his life. Nothing would break that.

She shivered again and, worried, he pulled a coat from a closed closet, careful to step over the broken glass and fallen furniture. "Who was screaming this time?" he asked softly, knowing it would be better for her to speak than to try and keep her feelings to herself.

She looked at him with that expression again, like she could see far and beyond his body and really saw those distant visions she so claimed having. "A family," she answered quietly. "They were being attacked by that man again."

This time, he felt a chill but squashed the feeling. Ever since the disease had started farther, she'd spoken of a man with skin stretched across thin bones, the image of a devil and the more she talked about him, the more realistic he seemed. What kind of demon haunted sleep? "He's not real," he murmured quietly, just as much for himself as for her, realizing that he was beginning to believe her (as the doctors warned) and knowing that it wouldn't do anyone good if he did. He shook his head. "It's just a dream, love," he repeated, wrapping her up in a giant hug. "You know he can't do anything to us. He's not real."

Normally, she would accept this with a gracious air, letting herself fall in his endless strength, but tonight she remembered something she'd seen the day before in the paper. "Come here," she told him, leaving his embrace and carefully making her way to the kitchen, watching her footsteps carefully. He followed, righting the fallen chairs much to her embarrassment but he never voiced any complaint, never made her feel unloved.

She pulled out the previous day's edition and, carefully scanning the articles, thumbed out a certain paragraph. "Look," she pointed it out. "This... this was in my dream."

He took the paper and looked at her article. It was saying something about a terrorist attack on an English town far from London, almost too small to be on the map. Giving her a look, his attention went back to the paper. "England's a far way off."

"I know, but this is the house," she repeated, pointing to a nearly unrecognizable dwelling in the picture. "I saw this exact house. There was an old man living here..." Her voice drifted off as she had one of her fits.

"Love," he whispered, waving a hand before her face. "Come on, love, come back to me."

She shook her head and shivered, blinking again and blushing. "Sorry." He didn't say a word, just pulled her back into a hug. "But we need to go there."

Looking into her eyes, he realized that he did believe her, much as he tried not to. Months and months of this, and now a sign of some sorts, a sign that she claimed gave proof that her dreams were true, that there really was some demon lord walking the earth and that England was in grave trouble. Months and months, and all her dreams and passions had been transferred to him, infecting him. He looked into her eyes and slowly nodded. "All right, let's go to England."

---------------------------

"For the last time, there is no Harry Potter in my house," Narcissa shot out, eyes narrowed and a dangerous fit on her face. She looked close to cracking through the delicate house-wife image and showing that, as a Malfoy and pure-blooded Slytherin, she was willing to back up any threat to anyone.

The investigators squirmed but the head wouldn't back down either. "Ma'am," he replied respectfully, "I have in my hands an order from the ministry that allows me to search the house. Now, you can either allow me to do so, or I'll call in the Hit Wizards and we'll search the premises either way."

Narcissa huffed and puffed but eventually gave in, having needed only a little time for the house elves to cover up all evidence of the Potter boy's presence as well as the tidbit of Dark Art practice that lay around the house. Now, when the investigators looked around, they wouldn't find anything, not even a hair of the brat, to accuse the Malfoy house with.

Indeed, when the investigators left nearly an hour later, it was with respectful voices but empty hands. And in the doorway, Narcissa fumed, humiliated but determined to get back at the Ministry for even allowing such a thing to happen.

---------------------------

"Here's the report."

"Thank you." Dumbledore picked up the single sheet of paper and nodded as the Hit Wizard left the school. The rest of the students watched him go, breakfast forgotten. His eyes scanned the sheet and he sighed, passing it left to McGonagall who, while keeping as normal as possible, tensed and aged a decade. Snape also read the lines and his face tightened. He passed it back to the headmaster.

"He must have known that we'd found out," Snape muttered darkly.

"How?" McGonagall asked, sounding very sad. "How could he have known?"

"The same way we found out," Dumbledore sighed again, letting the paper fall to the ground with its few lines: _Searched M. Mansion. No sign of H. P._ "When Harry contacted the others, Tom would have felt the magic and automatically assumed we knew, so he moved."

"Are you sure it was the Malfoy Mansion?" McGonagall asked Snape, sounding brisk as she tried to hide her emotions. It didn't work well; any student who was watching would know that something was up, and when they knew that, they'd also know that it was about Harry. And when they figured that out and saw the emotions barely hidden on their professors' faces, they'd know that some rescue attempt had been tried and had failed.

Snape snorted. "Who else has a house elf named Missy?"

"We can't let that get us down," Dumbledore quietly announced to his two best supporters. "Harry will find his own way out. I can feel it in these old bones." He smiled wearily. "The boy will find his way back to us, and at any rate, the war is beginning too quickly to let other items slip our attention." Even McGonagall nodded resignedly at that, knowing that it was true. They couldn't let everything else fall apart just to save a single person, couldn't let the whole world fall just because they were too busy trying to find Harry.

"You're right," she whispered and the three let the conversation die out, all immersed in their own thoughts and not ready to let anyone else find out exactly what was going on.

---------------------------

On the streets of Diagon Alley, at the far end where the Ministry buildings stood like solemn guards against rebellion, a rebellion was taking place as a beautiful witch stood her ground, pointing at the black buildings and screaming out injustice, screaming out words that made sense to the gathering crowd. She told of a recent experience of her privacy violated and also of random searches where corrupt officers took whatever they wanted as "evidence." And her voice of sense, as well as her physical beauty, called for the masses to stop and join her.

"I've come to protest, and I'm sure that many of you will agree with me when I say that the Ministry's gone too far."

There were great cheers and the women all nodded as their men grinned viciously.

Narcissa, too trained to let herself smile in accomplishment, continued with her speech as she stood before the Ministry's office, back held straight and addressing the families of those hurt or burned by the Ministry. Including those of known, suspected, or confessed Death Eater families who were ready to follow her. "They've branded us as society's misfits, people to be watched and guarded against. Everywhere I go, I can feel their Aurors watching me, following me as if I was planning an attack."

She raised her arms in proclaimed innocence. "Why would I attack anyone? I have a son in Hogwarts and he tells me that the whole of Slytherin is treated the same way, whispered about and treated like the school's black sheep." She brought her fist down viciously. "I say that today, that will end!"

The cheers grew louder and people yelled encouragement, sympathy. Many had been wrongly labeled after the last war was over and were now ready to flock to her, ready to accept her as their leader. And, when they had done so, she would train them and in turn give them over to her newly risen master. Mentally grinning, she thought of what the Dark Lord would do when he heard of her exploits, imagined what gains and honor her family would receive.

"Who here has ever been spit at? Laughed at? Called foul names--or better yet, whose children have been subject to the inhumanities of this society?"

Screams, cheers, all claiming that it was they.

"Who here has ever been denied labor because of suspicion, because of wrong accusations--or worse, hateful accusations from people who know you're innocent but want to hurt you? Just because there are some of us who have done evil doesn't mean that the rest support him, that the rest of us follow him. When my husband was taken under the Imperious Curse (the crowd gasped at that) means that forever, my family will be labeled as Death Eaters, as dark ones."

The women yelled similar stories, yelled that they too suffered under the same tyranny. Nearby guards shifted uneasily but one of their own number threw off his uniform, disgusted, and joined the crowd. Seeing him, Narcissa motioned for him to come forward.

"I've worked for the Ministry for twelve years," he cried out, voice magically loud, "and during that time, I've seen the evilest of evils. There's not a single soul who's not corrupt, who's not staunch against bribes." The crowd cried out with him and he waved a hand at the giant building behind him. "The Minister himself refuses to listen to counsel. He listens only to those with the most money, only to those with the most fame! We are being treated like pieces on a board game, with no more importance than what we can get him. Today, I take a stand!"

He walked back into the crowd, treated like a hero to the cause, and Narcissa let the faintest of smiles form on her face. She took back her spot and raised her hands again for emphasis. "The Ministry's own!" she called out, pointing to the ex-guard. "They've seen the truth behind the corruption."

By now, the crowd was worked up so that, if she wanted to, she could order them to storm the building and take over. And she wanted to.

"What leaders are we following?" she cried out, letting her voice crack just the slightest for drama. The crowd was aghast, as if just now seeing the truth. The guards were disturbed, counting the people and losing track of the numbers. She turned to them and pointed an accusing finger their way and they sweated as the mob's attention looked to them as well. "Why do you stay?" she demanded. "Why do you support them?"

The guards looked at each other and shifted back and forth nervously, wondering when reinforcements would show up.

"Come and join us," she beckoned, "and be received as a hero who's conquered the evil. Come and stand with us against the Ministry!" Her words were echoed within the crowd, now worked up to a lather and counting in the thousands. The streets nearby were jammed pack, almost all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron, and her voice touched them all. They crowded forward, screaming her name, reaching for her and feeling that as her eyes passed upon them all, she picked them from the crowd and nodded at them, letting them know that she had seen and accepted.

The guards shifted again, swallowing hard as she beckoned, the devil's lady of temptation. And if she wasn't enough, the massive mob behind her looked ready to tear apart any resistance. One by one, a guard would avert his gaze and follow the first's example, tossing the once-dignified robes to the ground and rushing to be lost in that crowd of passion. They all left, following and being enveloped in the crowd like brothers and sisters, once lost but returned again. The crowd's passion became their dream, and they became Narcissa's knights.

She surveyed the group before her with a calculating look, glanced back at the Ministry's office, and made her decision. "Down with the Minster!" she yelled. "Down with the corruption! Let this be the day the people rise up and swallow evil, rise up and destroys corruption. Let this be the day when the people speak and the whole world shakes."

Her screams became the voice of the crowd and, slowly but gaining momentum, the youth jumped forward, rushing the building's doors. They pulled out wands and blew open the way, running in and leading the pack. Narcissa watched as they flowed into the building, recalling an incident when the same thing had happened many years before, at the start of Voldemort's rise. Then, she had been in the crowd, hanging back, feeling the passions of the crowd like a dragon trying to consume her. Then, like now, she let the others lead, let the others spill the blood. Her hands, as so long ago in the innocence of youth, remained pure white. As a youth, she'd watched as the old minister was brought out and hung.

As an adult, she would be the one to hang him.

Lord Voldemort, One of Darkness, would be well pleased, she thought, as her followers began to march out the Ministry's officials. Very pleased.

The last thing Fudge saw was her burning eyes, stormiest gray with the touch of red madness, before his life was consumed by the demon.

---------------------------

Molly Weasley happily hummed in tune with the latest song ("_Bewitched over you_," by Perfect Pegasus) as she cooked dinner. Her head bobbed, her toes tapped, and her spoon stirred all in beat with the music. The rest of the house, of course, was silent.

Which didn't mean it would stay that way.

With the little ones in school, her cooking didn't have to feed so many anymore, but more often than not her older boys would drop in unexpectedly and expect food. Percy, who just recently moved out on terms of his claimed privacy, wasn't too inclined to do so, but Charlie and Bill came over almost every night.

Absently, she looked up at the family clock, a habit she had when she had nothing better to do, and now she lovingly let her eyes drift from each of her children's hands. Bill was at work but Charlie was traveling (most like home). Arthur, out on a visit to America, was also traveling but since he insisted on doing it the muggle way, he wouldn't be home 'til tomorrow. And Percy, dear Percy, was working. Had been, in fact, since early that morning.

She sighed and the last four of her children were all at Hogwarts, no worry there.

The front door opened and Charlie called out. "Mum?"

"In the kitchen, love," she answered, going back to dinner. Her song ended and the DJ's voice came on. When Charlie came in, she turned the station down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "How was work?"

"Mum," he laughed. "You act like I'm still a child."

"You are," she pointed out, shaking a spoon at him. "You'll always be my little boy." Getting teary-eyed, she sniffed and asked, "Why can't you come and stay home?"

"Mum..."

"Your old room's empty. No one else needs the space."

Charlie smiled but shook his head. "No mum. You know that I couldn't do that. Besides, I need to sleep near the dragons in case something's wrong."

"Dragons are no substitute for family," she replied wisely, going back to her dinner. Carefully, she brought a spoon up to her mouth and took a small sip, careful not to burn her mouth. "Dinner won't be ready for awhile. Go take a shower and wash your hands." Obediently, Charlie nodded and headed up the stairs. "If you need any clothes," she called after him, "just borrow some from your father."

"When will he be getting home?" Charlie's voice drifted from up the stairs.

"Tomorrow, I think." She heard the shower start and smiled, going back to her cooking and turning up the music again. Her little boys, all grown up and living out on their own. Pretty soon, they'd be getting wives--'good wives,' she growled to herself, determined not to let any woman break their hearts. 'They'll have to know how to cook and clean, how to take care of children, and that I'm the boss,' she went on, stirring the potatoes viciously.

Arthur's mother had been like that to her: strict, demanding, but in the end a better mother than her own. When Molly had first met the old woman, she'd thought the lady senile. Who'd ever have so many children?

"I've learned my lesson," she whispered, awed at how similar she and the old mother had become, bless her soul. Getting a little overwhelmed, she let herself get lost in the music again and was soon back to her "cooking dancing," as Arthur like to call it.

She didn't even hear the front door open again.

"Mum?"

Molly started, dropping her spoon into the pot. "Oh drat," she muttered, looking into the cooling potatoes but seeing no sign of anything. Bracing herself, she pulled up her sleeve and carefully dipped her hand into the pot, fingers squishing and noisily slurping.

Someone behind her chuckled and she spun about, having completely forgotten the voice that had startled her in the first place. Bill leaned against the wall, arms folded against his chest and eyebrows raised. "Is that why all your food comes out tasting so good?" he joked.

"Ah Bill, you're home early," she smiled, fingers closing around the elusive spoon and pulling it from the pot with satisfaction. She absently waved up the stairs. "Charlie's taking a shower already, so you'll have to wait a minute."

"That's all right," Bill said, coming up and giving her a loving peck on the cheek before heading upstairs. "He'll probably be out in a minute."

She watched him go up the stairs and disappear into his old bedroom with a sad sort of longing, remembering the days when he used to love helping her cook. "And when he cut his hair," she added verbally. "That boy..." Sighing, she went back to her cooking, getting the last of the dinner ready.

Once, when she and the old mother had cooked together, she'd asked the lady why they couldn't just magically fix dinner. It was a popular practice and those who made things the old "muggle" way were sorely teased over their bad habits.

The old mum had looked her straight in the eye and said, "Missy (she always forgot Molly's real name) if you want to go with those huborsmackers and magic up your own dinner, go ahead. But for my son, I'll spend the time to make my own dinner. There's a taste in something made in love, a taste that no matter how bad you cook you know someone will eat it. You go ahead, but for my son, I'll spend the time to tell him I love him."

Back then, Molly had thought the old lady off her rocker. How exactly did spending hours making someone dinner show them that you loved them? There was no sense in that. But now, she realized the old lady's wisdom in cooking and many other things. Sighing, Molly let her attention slip again, realizing how much she missed the old mum.

"Mum?" Percy poked his head in the kitchen. "Oh, are you still cooking?"

"Percy," she smiled at her middle son, turning down the music again. "Yes, but I'm almost done."

He moved into the kitchen slowly, with a practiced air as if he spent hours a day just watching himself watch, trying to perfect his every step, which was probably what he'd done. Of course, things had changed greatly since the beginning of summer when Percy had made that awful mistake... "Do you need any help?" he asked meekly, looking about for some use to apply himself to.

Oh, what a dear. "No, love. Don't you want to take a shower?"

He shook his head then paused as if his ear had caught onto something. "What are you listening to?" he asked, moving forward to turn to radio up. Charlie, looking freshly cleaned, walked into the kitchen with a towel round his neck, scrubbing at his wet hair and Bill followed, still in his work clothes.

"Mum, do you have any clothes?" he was saying, looking slightly bashful. "I forgot everything-"

"Shh!" Percy ordered as a voice began speaking through the radio:

"_I can't believe this is happening,_" the man was saying, breathing quick and light, as if he was running. "_I can't believe this is happening! It's unbelievable._" He took a slight pause and, while he wasn't talking, there were screams in the background. "_For those of you just tuning in, I'm here to report that, in the last half-hour, a revolt has taken place right here in Diagon Alley._"

"What?" Molly breathed, forgetting all about her cooking and staring at the radio in shock.

"_It's incredible! Even now, the Ministry's burning down. People are running, screaming. The fire's spreading. If you were planning on coming down, I saw don't! I repeat: stay as far away from Diagon Alley--hey! Stop shoving--oh, oh no! They've got the Minister! What are they--oh, oh no. Listeners, you'll not believe this. I'm standing just outside of the cauldron shop and from here, I can see the revolt's leaders, marching the minister and the minister's officials out of the building. This does not look pretty. I repeat, anyone planning to come down here, stay as far away--By Merlin! I-I can't believe this! I-I think they're going to--yes, they're going to execute the minister!_"

The screaming got louder and above the reporter's shaky breathing, the Weasleys could just barely make out Fudge's voice. Percy went white and began to tremble. "I was there," he trembled, "just a minute ago."

"_If anyone believes me, these people are going to execute Minister Fudge! Where are the Aurors? Where is the help? For the love of--_" His voice went silent but the screaming paused just for a moment, as if everyone down in Diagon Alley all quieted just to hear one thing. Then there was a single scream.

"That was him," Bill stated ominously. "That was him."

"Oh no," Molly repeated the reporter's words, sinking against a wall, eyes still glued to the radio where even now, great cheers were coming in.

Charlie began to move, almost running out the door when Bill stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?" the elder demanded of his sibling.

"Where else?" Charlie shouted back, gesturing angrily to the radio. "Someone's got to stop this!"

"And you think you're that someone?" Bill roared. "Listen, just listen to that!" The cheers were very loud. "Do you think anyone there's going to listen to you? Just listen! They're _cheering the murders on!_"

Charlie's breathing was very harsh. "I'm not just going to-"

"Yes you are," Bill interrupted. "You're not going to do anything. In fact, you're going to sit here until this whole mess dies down-"

"You can't make me-" Charlie's outburst was cut short when Bill pointed his wand at his younger brother and paralyzed him.

"I can," Bill retorted sharply. He looked over at Percy. "I've got to go, I need you to take care of the house for me. Can you do that?" Dumbly, the younger brother nodded, staring at the frozen Charlie. "Good."

"Bill, you can't leave," Molly shouted, but stopped at the look of her boy's face. He looked exactly as Arthur had, many years ago when the war first started. Now, as then, there would be no stopping him. She sighed then gave a quick peck on his cheek. "Good luck son. Be safe."

"Thank you mum," Bill replied shortly, running out the door. "Don't let anyone come in!" he yelled back before leaving. "_No one!_"

"I won't," Percy answered, but Bill was already gone.

---------------------------

"Attention all passengers, Flight 207 will now begin boarding seats 10 through 18. Flight 207, New York City to London, England, will now begin boarding seats 10 through 18. Thank you."

Arthur looked down at his ticket, thrilled beyond belief. His was seat number 13. "That's me, then," he muttered to himself, looking up towards the smiling lady who'd made the announcement as she began ushering others into the aeroplane. He swallowed, excited but nervous, and turned to a nearby couple who were heading towards the lady. "Excuse me, but what is that?"

"Huh?" The man looked up to where Arthur pointed. "The terminal?"

"Terminal? Yes, that's it. It's not--I mean, we're not supposed to go into it, are we?" Arthur asked, looking back to the 'terminal,' as the muggle called it.

The man nodded, slightly confused. The woman beside him whispered something and went on without him.

"Fascinating," Arthur murmured, awed. "Then I suppose, after going into this beast's belly, we'll be spat out in London?" He rubbed his chin in wonder. "Do we get a change of clothing, I wonder?"

"'Beast?' Oh, no sir," the muggle laughed gently. "This isn't a monster. It's just a... well, it's a short hallway to the airplane. Here, let me show you." The muggle directed Arthur to a nearby window and pointed. "See, that's an airplane coming in. Once it lands, the terminal is electronically stretched out so that no one has to walk outside. They're automatically in the airport--see, there, right there. That's it. Soon, people will be coming out of that gate," he pointed to said airplane's unloading station. "It's not a monster, but a transport."

"Fascinating," Arthur repeated, eyes wide. Forgetting who he was speaking to, he casually added, "You muggles really do everything without magic, don't you?"

"Magic?" The muggle shook his head with a smile. "Sometimes, it seems like magic but it's all science, really. Science, and man's will to succeed. Say, you're coming on this flight, aren't you?"

"I certainly hope so," Arthur replied, glad to find someone to talk to who didn't think him strange as most muggles did. He fumbled out his ticket and nodded. "Unless these things change. You know, I once had a ticket that changed numbers on me. Bothersome, that one. But no, you muggles don't have problems like that, do you?"

"I suppose we don't," the muggle agreed, looking at Arthur's ticket. "But what's a muggle?"

"A muggle?" Arthur paused. "Oh, nothing really now that I think about it." Fortunately, the man accepted his hasty answer and led Arthur to the smiling flight attendant who quickly checked their tickets before welcoming them to their flight. The muggle's wife had gone on ahead to get their seats.

"I think you're sitting with us, sir," the muggle said, grabbing the wide-eyed Arthur's attention. Indeed, they did share the same seats. "This here is my lovely wife, Darling, and I'm Jim Packard."

"Oh!" Arthur pulled his eyes down from all the "elektrik" buttons, ignoring the urge to head up front and see what made the aero--airplane--fly. He smiled and shook the lady's hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Arthur Weasley."

A voice began to speak, so startling Arthur that he jumped up and looked around for the voice's source. Jim smiled and Arthur quickly explain, "It's my first time on a plane."

"I thought as much," came the kind answer. "Don't worry. That's just the captain speaking."

"_This is the captain speaking,_" the voice echoed, and Arthur still couldn't pinpoint the source but managed to calm down, awed at every little thing. "_Welcome aboard Flight 207. We'll be flying straight to London and will arrive there in a few short hours. Please observe the seat-belt sign is now on, meaning that I expect everyone to be buckled up. There is also a no-smoking policy onboard, and I apologize but that policy will be strictly enforced._"

"Well, I'm glad," Arthur said to himself. "Who ever heard of lighting a fire just for smoke?"

Jim, a bit confused, quietly told Arthur to buckle his seat belt, then showed the wizard how to do so when it became clear that Arthur had no idea what a seat belt was.

"Absolutely fascinating," the wizard muttered again. He looked up into the confused but still friendly eyes of Jim. "And you say these things will make sure I'm not thrown off the plane?"

"Well, something like that," Jim replied. Darling was being strangely quiet, eyes unfocused and just looking at her gave Arthur a shock but before he could remember why, the captain went on.

"_I hope that everyone enjoys the flight. Lunch will be served at 11:00 and refreshments are available to anyone who's hungry before them. Please note that the seat-belt sign will be on until lift off but afterwards, you are free to wander about the plane so long as you observe the boundaries. Thank you and have a nice flight._"

"We can take these belts off?" Arthur gasped. "But, what will make sure we don't fall off?"

"No, it's... the seat belts help make sure you're all right during take off and landing," Jim explained. "So that you don't bonk your head while the plane's unsteady. But once it's steady, then you're free to walk around."

"Amazing." Arthur felt the weirdest feeling as the plane took off and too great delight staring out the window as the ground moved faster along, then as the plane became higher, and soon even the great buildings of New York were little specks on the horizon. "Absolutely amazing."

---------------------------

"You know what this means, don't you?" Padma started. Her voice only shook a little, much to her pride. The other heads stared woodenly and Hannah absently tugged on one of her pigtails. No one knew what to say. There really wasn't anything to say.

"He didn't say there were any Death Eaters," Ron pointed out, sounding hesitant. Which was perfectly fine, seeing as how they had just heard Minister Fudge executed along with almost every other official unlucky enough to be in their offices at the time. He had the worst of the lot: his dad and brother both worked for the Ministry. Luckily, neither were mentioned by the rebels, who all shouted each dignitary's name before he or she was killed. Even now, as the radio still recorded, there was a festive sound to it all, and had they not known better, the students would have thought a party going on.

"What does that have to do with anything," Hannah asked glumly.

"It means that this was all the people's fault," Draco replied darkly. He snorted. "Shows you what kind of leadership the old Ministry had, if they could be caught and quartered like that-"

"Draco!" Padma cut in sharply, face pale. She took a deep, shaky breath and said, "We're going to have to be the ones telling everyone else."

"Won't Dumbledore know?" Hannah asked, a pleading tone to her voice. "Why don't we just let him deal with this?"

"When everyone finds out that a mob broke into the Ministry offices, killed almost every flippin' leader we have, and stayed the night to celebrate, not everyone will take it as easily as we are."

"That's true," Ron murmured. Draco sat quietly staring at his hands. Ron fidgeted then glanced over at the radio. "Can we turn that off now?" he asked. "It's kind of creepy." Draco didn't even comment.

Hannah nodded and gratefully released the energies that kept the radio going. The cheers were cut off and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"What in the world are we going to do?" Hannah whispered. "If the Minister can't stop them, who will?"

"The more important question is if they're actually going to do anything else," Draco replied dryly. "If those people just leave, then the people who survived will be able to put the ministry back together." 'The people who survived.' Draco's words were chilling. "But they might decide to set up their own government, elect their own minister. If they do that, this can go on for quite awhile."

"Won't they have to have the support of the people to elect a new minister?" Hannah asked but Padma shook her head.

"At this point in time," she answered wisely, "they _are_ the people. So just imagine what that kind of people would elect and that's the person were almost guaranteed to have."

"And we really can't do anything about it," Ron went on, clenching his hands into fists. "Even if we were old enough, we couldn't stand against a mob of that size." He sighed. "I think about the only thing we can do is get everyone into their common rooms and tell them what's happened, then try and answer their questions the best way we can. Those first years are going to be absolutely frightened."

"None of you managed to catch those people's names, did you?" Padma suddenly asked. "Some of my house have parents working in there and they'll want to know..." The others shook their heads.

Draco was the first to stand and, before he left, he muttered, "Hope everyone's ready to face what's coming." Then he left.

"What's he talking about?" Ron glared.

Hannah shook her head. "I don't know."

"I think we're going to find out soon," Padma added, and the three all separated.

---------------------------

"Hey Ron," Dean came up as soon as the Head Boy walked in. "Why do we have to stay in here again?"

Ron sighed and looked around to see the faces of the students under his jurisdiction all watching him. As he looked at them, their faces fell, knowing from his expression that something had happened.

He motioned for them all to gather together. "I have to tell you something," he announced, voice cracking. "And it's kind of important."

---------------------------

"What's so important?" Susan asked as Hannah motioned for everyone to start taking a seat.

Not taking the signal from Hannah's sober face, Justin stood and said, "Something big. You know how we were going to research stuff? Well, those Ravenclaws beat us to it! I bet Terry leaked what happened here, you know, so all those brainies are out there researching our stuff! Now what are we going to do?"

"Justin," Hannah interrupted softly, "that's not what's wrong."

"Then what is?" the Hufflepuff population wanted to know.

---------------------------

"Something's... happened today," Padma started, trying her best to pick out the right words but she shuddered, still hearing that piercing scream as the minister was executed.

The Ravenclaws reluctantly sat down, gathering about and trying to fit their numbers in the common room comfortably. A few glanced back longingly at abandoned books, studies, chess matches, and their eyes urged for her to hurry. She sighed sadly, not knowing how to tell them that some of their parents might even be dead while the ministry collapsed.

She didn't know how to tell them that she had no idea what to do.

---------------------------

"So that's it," Draco calmly explained to his silent common room. He paced back and forth, chin in hand. "I think my mother was leading, because I heard her voice, but I have no real way of finding out until morning."

"It's about time that someone got rid of that man," Pansy spoke distastefully, nose wrinkled. "To think it would take so long."

"This fits in right with Voldemort's rising," one Slytherin pointed out. "Are the two connected in any way?"

Draco shrugged. "Again, I won't know until morning, but I'll tell you then." He looked around. "Any questions?"

---------------------------

Harry's dream came to an end and he awoke with a gasp.


End file.
